Chapter 1 PETER BREAKS THROUGHChapter 2 THE SHADOWChapter 3 COME AWAY, COME AWAY!Chapter 4 THE FLIGHTChapter 5 THE ISLAND COME TRUEChapter 6 THE LITTLE HOUSEChapter 7 THE HOME UNDER THE GROUNDChapter 8 THE MERMAID'S LAGOONChapter 9 THE NEVER BIRDChapter 10 THE HAPPY HOMEChapter 11 WENDY'S STORYChapter 12 THE CHILDREN ARE CARRIED OFFChapter 13 DO YOU BELIEVE IN FAIRIES?Chapter 14 THE PIRATE SHIPChapter 15 "HOOK OR ME THIS TIME"Chapter 16 THE RETURN HOMEChapter 17 WHEN WENDY GREW UP

Chapter 1 PETER BREAKS THROUGH

All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they willgrow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was twoyears old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flowerand ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked ratherdelightful, for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried,"Oh, why can't you remain like this for ever!" This was all thatpassed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew thatshe must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is thebeginning of the end.

Of course they lived at 14 [their house number on their street],and until Wendy came her mother was the chief one. She was a lovely lady,with a romantic mind and such a sweet mocking mouth. Her romantic mindwas like the tiny boxes, one within the other, that come from thepuzzling East, however many you discover there is always one more; andher sweet mocking mouth had one kiss on it that Wendy could never get,though there it was, perfectly conspicuous in the right-hand corner.

The way Mr. Darling won her was this: the many gentlemen whohad been boys when she was a girl discovered simultaneously thatthey loved her, and they all ran to her house to propose to herexcept Mr. Darling, who took a cab and nipped in first, and so hegot her. He got all of her, except the innermost box and thekiss. He never knew about the box, and in time he gave up tryingfor the kiss. Wendy thought Napoleon could have got it, but Ican picture him trying, and then going off in a passion, slammingthe door.

Mr. Darling used to boast to Wendy that her mother not onlyloved him but respected him. He was one of those deep ones whoknow about stocks and shares. Of course no one really knows,but he quite seemed to know, and he often said stocks were up andshares were down in a way that would have made any woman respecthim.

Mrs. Darling was married in white, and at first she kept thebooks perfectly, almost gleefully, as if it were a game, not somuch as a Brussels sprout was missing; but by and by wholecauliflowers dropped out, and instead of them there were picturesof babies without faces. She drew them when she should have beentotting up. They were Mrs. Darling's guesses.

Wendy came first, then John, then Michael.

For a week or two after Wendy came it was doubtful whether theywould be able to keep her, as she was another mouth to feed. Mr.Darling was frightfully proud of her, but he was very honourable,and he sat on the edge of Mrs. Darling's bed, holding her handand calculating expenses, while she looked at him imploringly.She wanted to risk it, come what might, but that was not his way;his way was with a pencil and a piece of paper, and if sheconfused him with suggestions he had to begin at the beginningagain.

"Now don't interrupt," he would beg of her. "I have one pound seventeenhere, and two and six at the office; I can cut off my coffee at theoffice, say ten shillings, making two nine and six, with your eighteenand three makes three nine seven, with five naught naught in mycheque-book makes eight nine seven--who is that moving?--eight nineseven, dot and carry seven--don't speak, my own--and the pound youlent to that man who came to the door--quiet, child--dot and carrychild--there, you've done it!--did I say nine nine seven? yes, I saidnine nine seven; the question is, can we try it for a year on ninenine seven?"

"Of course we can, George," she cried. But she was prejudicedin Wendy's favour, and he was really the grander character of thetwo.

"Remember mumps," he warned her almost threateningly, and offhe went again. "Mumps one pound, that is what I have put down,but I daresay it will be more like thirty shillings--don'tspeak--measles one five, German measles half a guinea, makestwo fifteen six--don't waggle your finger--whooping-cough,say fifteen shillings"--and so on it went, and it added updifferently each time; but at last Wendy just got through,with mumps reduced to twelve six, and the two kinds of measlestreated as one.

There was the same excitement over John, and Michael had even anarrower squeak; but both were kept, and soon, you might have seenthe three of them going in a row to Miss Fulsom's Kindergartenschool, accompanied by their nurse.

Mrs. Darling loved to have everything just so, and Mr. Darlinghad a passion for being exactly like his neighbours; so, ofcourse, they had a nurse. As they were poor, owing to the amountof milk the children drank, this nurse was a prim Newfoundlanddog, called Nana, who had belonged to no one in particular untilthe Darlings engaged her. She had always thought childrenimportant, however, and the Darlings had become acquainted withher in Kensington Gardens, where she spent most of her spare timepeeping into perambulators, and was much hated by carelessnursemaids, whom she followed to their homes and complained of totheir mistresses. She proved to be quite a treasure of a nurse.How thorough she was at bath-time, and up at any moment of thenight if one of her charges made the slightest cry. Of courseher kennel was in the nursery. She had a genius for knowing whena cough is a thing to have no patience with and when it needsstocking around your throat. She believed to her last day inold-fashioned remedies like rhubarb leaf, and made sounds ofcontempt over all this new-fangled talk about germs, and so on.It was a lesson in propriety to see her escorting the children toschool, walking sedately by their side when they were wellbehaved, and butting them back into line if they strayed. OnJohn's footer [in England soccer was called football, "footer"for short] days she never once forgot his sweater, and sheusually carried an umbrella in her mouth in case of rain. Thereis a room in the basement of Miss Fulsom's school where thenurses wait. They sat on forms, while Nana lay on the floor,but that was the only difference. They affected to ignore her asof an inferior social status to themselves, and she despisedtheir light talk. She resented visits to the nursery from Mrs.Darling's friends, but if they did come she first whipped offMichael's pinafore and put him into the one with blue braiding,and smoothed out Wendy and made a dash at John's hair.

No nursery could possibly have been conducted more correctly,and Mr. Darling knew it, yet he sometimes wondered uneasilywhether the neighbours talked.

He had his position in the city to consider.

Nana also troubled him in another way. He had sometimes afeeling that she did not admire him. "I know she admires youtremendously, George," Mrs. Darling would assure him, and thenshe would sign to the children to be specially nice to father.Lovely dances followed, in which the only other servant, Liza,was sometimes allowed to join. Such a midget she looked in herlong skirt and maid's cap, though she had sworn, when engaged,that she would never see ten again. The gaiety of those romps!And gayest of all was Mrs. Darling, who would pirouette so wildlythat all you could see of her was the kiss, and then if you haddashed at her you might have got it. There never was a simplerhappier family until the coming of Peter Pan.

Mrs. Darling first heard of Peter when she was tidying up herchildren's minds. It is the nightly custom of every good motherafter her children are asleep to rummage in their minds and putthings straight for next morning, repacking into their properplaces the many articles that have wandered during the day. Ifyou could keep awake (but of course you can't) you would see yourown mother doing this, and you would find it very interesting towatch her. It is quite like tidying up drawers. You would seeher on her knees, I expect, lingering humorously over some ofyour contents, wondering where on earth you had picked this thingup, making discoveries sweet and not so sweet, pressing this toher cheek as if it were as nice as a kitten, and hurriedlystowing that out of sight. When you wake in the morning, thenaughtiness and evil passions with which you went to bed havebeen folded up small and placed at the bottom of your mind andon the top, beautifully aired, are spread out your prettierthoughts, ready for you to put on.

I don't know whether you have ever seen a map of a person'smind. Doctors sometimes draw maps of other parts of you, andyour own map can become intensely interesting, but catch themtrying to draw a map of a child's mind, which is not onlyconfused, but keeps going round all the time. There are zigzaglines on it, just like your temperature on a card, and these areprobably roads in the island, for the Neverland is always more orless an island, with astonishing splashes of colour here andthere, and coral reefs and rakish-looking craft in the offing,and savages and lonely lairs, and gnomes who are mostly tailors,and caves through which a river runs, and princes with six elderbrothers, and a hut fast going to decay, and one very small oldlady with a hooked nose. It would be an easy map if that wereall, but there is also first day at school, religion, fathers,the round pond, needle-work, murders, hangings, verbs that takethe dative, chocolate pudding day, getting into braces, sayninety-nine, three-pence for pulling out your tooth yourself, andso on, and either these are part of the island or they areanother map showing through, and it is all rather confusing,especially as nothing will stand still.

Of course the Neverlands vary a good deal. John's, forinstance, had a lagoon with flamingoes flying over it at whichJohn was shooting, while Michael, who was very small, had aflamingo with lagoons flying over it. John lived in a boatturned upside down on the sands, Michael in a wigwam, Wendy in ahouse of leaves deftly sewn together. John had no friends,Michael had friends at night, Wendy had a pet wolf forsaken byits parents, but on the whole the Neverlands have a familyresemblance, and if they stood still in a row you could say of themthat they have each other's nose, and so forth. On these magicshores children at play are for ever beaching their coracles[simple boat]. We too have been there; we can still hear thesound of the surf, though we shall land no more.

Of all delectable islands the Neverland is the snuggest andmost compact, not large and sprawly, you know, with tediousdistances between one adventure and another, but nicely crammed.When you play at it by day with the chairs and table-cloth, it isnot in the least alarming, but in the two minutes before you go tosleep it becomes very real. That is why there are night-lights.

Occasionally in her travels through her children's minds Mrs.Darling found things she could not understand, and of these quitethe most perplexing was the word Peter. She knew of no Peter,and yet he was here and there in John and Michael's minds, whileWendy's began to be scrawled all over with him. The name stoodout in bolder letters than any of the other words, and as Mrs.Darling gazed she felt that it had an oddly cocky appearance.

"Yes, he is rather cocky," Wendy admitted with regret. Hermother had been questioning her.

"But who is he, my pet?"

"He is Peter Pan, you know, mother."

At first Mrs. Darling did not know, but after thinking backinto her childhood she just remembered a Peter Pan who was saidto live with the fairies. There were odd stories about him, asthat when children died he went part of the way with them, sothat they should not be frightened. She had believed in him atthe time, but now that she was married and full of sense shequite doubted whether there was any such person.

"Besides," she said to Wendy, "he would be grown up by thistime."

"Oh no, he isn't grown up," Wendy assured her confidently, "andhe is just my size." She meant that he was her size in both mindand body; she didn't know how she knew, she just knew it.

Mrs. Darling consulted Mr. Darling, but he smiled pooh-pooh."Mark my words," he said, "it is some nonsense Nana has beenputting into their heads; just the sort of idea a dog would have.Leave it alone, and it will blow over."

But it would not blow over and soon the troublesome boy gaveMrs. Darling quite a shock.

Children have the strangest adventures without being troubledby them. For instance, they may remember to mention, a weekafter the event happened, that when they were in the wood theyhad met their dead father and had a game with him. It was inthis casual way that Wendy one morning made a disquietingrevelation. Some leaves of a tree had been found on the nurseryfloor, which certainly were not there when the children went tobed, and Mrs. Darling was puzzling over them when Wendy said witha tolerant smile:

"I do believe it is that Peter again!"

"Whatever do you mean, Wendy?"

"It is so naughty of him not to wipe his feet," Wendy said,sighing. She was a tidy child.

She explained in quite a matter-of-fact way that she thoughtPeter sometimes came to the nursery in the night and sat on thefoot of her bed and played on his pipes to her. Unfortunatelyshe never woke, so she didn't know how she knew, she just knew.

"What nonsense you talk, precious. No one can get into thehouse without knocking."

"I think he comes in by the window," she said.

"My love, it is three floors up."

"Were not the leaves at the foot of the window, mother?"

It was quite true; the leaves had been found very near thewindow.

Mrs. Darling did not know what to think, for it all seemed sonatural to Wendy that you could not dismiss it by saying she hadbeen dreaming.

"My child," the mother cried, "why did you not tell me of thisbefore?"

"I forgot," said Wendy lightly. She was in a hurry to get herbreakfast.

Oh, surely she must have been dreaming.

But, on the other hand, there were the leaves. Mrs. Darlingexamined them very carefully; they were skeleton leaves, but shewas sure they did not come from any tree that grew in England.She crawled about the floor, peering at it with a candle formarks of a strange foot. She rattled the poker up the chimneyand tapped the walls. She let down a tape from the window to thepavement, and it was a sheer drop of thirty feet, without so muchas a spout to climb up by.

Certainly Wendy had been dreaming.

But Wendy had not been dreaming, as the very next night showed,the night on which the extraordinary adventures of these childrenmay be said to have begun.

On the night we speak of all the children were once more inbed. It happened to be Nana's evening off, and Mrs. Darling hadbathed them and sung to them till one by one they had let go herhand and slid away into the land of sleep.

All were looking so safe and cosy that she smiled at her fearsnow and sat down tranquilly by the fire to sew.

It was something for Michael, who on his birthday was gettinginto shirts. The fire was warm, however, and the nursery dimlylit by three night-lights, and presently the sewing lay on Mrs.Darling's lap. Then her head nodded, oh, so gracefully. She wasasleep. Look at the four of them, Wendy and Michael over there,John here, and Mrs. Darling by the fire. There should have beena fourth night-light.

While she slept she had a dream. She dreamt that the Neverlandhad come too near and that a strange boy had broken through fromit. He did not alarm her, for she thought she had seen himbefore in the faces of many women who have no children. Perhapshe is to be found in the faces of some mothers also. But in herdream he had rent the film that obscures the Neverland, and shesaw Wendy and John and Michael peeping through the gap.

The dream by itself would have been a trifle, but while she wasdreaming the window of the nursery blew open, and a boy did dropon the floor. He was accompanied by a strange light, no biggerthan your fist, which darted about the room like a living thingand I think it must have been this light that wakened Mrs.Darling.

She started up with a cry, and saw the boy, and somehow sheknew at once that he was Peter Pan. If you or I or Wendy hadbeen there we should have seen that he was very like Mrs.Darling's kiss. He was a lovely boy, clad in skeleton leaves andthe juices that ooze out of trees but the most entrancing thingabout him was that he had all his first teeth. When he saw shewas a grown-up, he gnashed the little pearls at her.

Chapter 2 - THE SHADOW

Mrs. Darling screamed, and, as if in answer to a bell, the dooropened, and Nana entered, returned from her evening out. Shegrowled and sprang at the boy, who leapt lightly through thewindow. Again Mrs. Darling screamed, this time in distress forhim, for she thought he was killed, and she ran down into thestreet to look for his little body, but it was not there; and shelooked up, and in the black night she could see nothing but whatshe thought was a shooting star.

She returned to the nursery, and found Nana with something inher mouth, which proved to be the boy's shadow. As he leapt atthe window Nana had closed it quickly, too late to catch him, buthis shadow had not had time to get out; slam went the window andsnapped it off.

You may be sure Mrs. Darling examined the shadow carefully, butit was quite the ordinary kind.

Nana had no doubt of what was the best thing to do with thisshadow. She hung it out at the window, meaning "He is sure tocome back for it; let us put it where he can get it easilywithout disturbing the children."

But unfortunately Mrs. Darling could not leave it hanging outat the window, it looked so like the washing and lowered thewhole tone of the house. She thought of showing it to Mr.Darling, but he was totting up winter great-coats for John andMichael, with a wet towel around his head to keep his brainclear, and it seemed a shame to trouble him; besides, she knewexactly what he would say: "It all comes of having a dog for anurse."

She decided to roll the shadow up and put it away carefully ina drawer, until a fitting opportunity came for telling herhusband. Ah me!

The opportunity came a week later, on that never-to-be-forgotten Friday. Of course it was a Friday.

"I ought to have been specially careful on a Friday," she usedto say afterwards to her husband, while perhaps Nana was on theother side of her, holding her hand.

They sat thus night after night recalling that fatal Friday,till every detail of it was stamped on their brains and camethrough on the other side like the faces on a bad coinage.

"If only I had not accepted that invitation to dine at 27,"Mrs. Darling said.

"If only I had not poured my medicine into Nana's bowl," saidMr. Darling.

"If only I had pretended to like the medicine," was what Nana'swet eyes said.

"My liking for parties, George."

"My fatal gift of humour, dearest."

"My touchiness about trifles, dear master and mistress."

Then one or more of them would break down altogether; Nana atthe thought, "It's true, it's true, they ought not to have had adog for a nurse." Many a time it was Mr. Darling who put thehandkerchief to Nana's eyes.

"That fiend!" Mr. Darling would cry, and Nana's bark was theecho of it, but Mrs. Darling never upbraided Peter; there wassomething in the right-hand corner of her mouth that wanted hernot to call Peter names.

They would sit there in the empty nursery, recalling fondlyevery smallest detail of that dreadful evening. It had begun souneventfully, so precisely like a hundred other evenings, withNana putting on the water for Michael's bath and carrying him toit on her back.

"I won't go to bed," he had shouted, like one who stillbelieved that he had the last word on the subject, "I won't, Iwon't. Nana, it isn't six o'clock yet. Oh dear, oh dear, Ishan't love you any more, Nana. I tell you I won't be bathed, Iwon't, I won't!"

Then Mrs. Darling had come in, wearing her white evening-gown.She had dressed early because Wendy so loved to see her in herevening-gown, with the necklace George had given her. She waswearing Wendy's bracelet on her arm; she had asked for the loanof it. Wendy loved to lend her bracelet to her mother.

She had found her two older children playing at being herselfand father on the occasion of Wendy's birth, and John was saying:

"I am happy to inform you, Mrs. Darling, that you are now amother," in just such a tone as Mr. Darling himself may have usedon the real occasion.

Wendy had danced with joy, just as the real Mrs. Darling musthave done.

Then John was born, with the extra pomp that he conceived dueto the birth of a male, and Michael came from his bath to ask tobe born also, but John said brutally that they did not want anymore.

Michael had nearly cried. "Nobody wants me," he said, and ofcourse the lady in the evening-dress could not stand that.

"I do," she said, "I so want a third child."

"Boy or girl?" asked Michael, not too hopefully.

"Boy."

Then he had leapt into her arms. Such a little thing for Mr.and Mrs. Darling and Nana to recall now, but not so little ifthat was to be Michael's last night in the nursery.

They go on with their recollections.

"It was then that I rushed in like a tornado, wasn't it?" Mr.Darling would say, scorning himself; and indeed he had been likea tornado.

Perhaps there was some excuse for him. He, too, had beendressing for the party, and all had gone well with him until hecame to his tie. It is an astounding thing to have to tell, butthis man, though he knew about stocks and shares, had no realmastery of his tie. Sometimes the thing yielded to him without acontest, but there were occasions when it would have been betterfor the house if he had swallowed his pride and used a made-uptie.

This was such an occasion. He came rushing into the nurserywith the crumpled little brute of a tie in his hand.

"Why, what is the matter, father dear?"

"Matter!" he yelled; he really yelled. "This tie, it will nottie." He became dangerously sarcastic. "Not round my neck!Round the bed-post! Oh yes, twenty times have I made it up roundthe bed-post, but round my neck, no! Oh dear no! begs to beexcused!"

He thought Mrs. Darling was not sufficiently impressed, and hewent on sternly, "I warn you of this, mother, that unless thistie is round my neck we don't go out to dinner to-night, and if Idon't go out to dinner to-night, I never go to the office again,and if I don't go to the office again, you and I starve, and ourchildren will be flung into the streets."

Even then Mrs. Darling was placid. "Let me try, dear," shesaid, and indeed that was what he had come to ask her to do, andwith her nice cool hands she tied his tie for him, while thechildren stood around to see their fate decided. Some men wouldhave resented her being able to do it so easily, but Mr. Darlinghad far too fine a nature for that; he thanked her carelessly, atonce forgot his rage, and in another moment was dancing round theroom with Michael on his back.

"How wildly we romped!" says Mrs. Darling now, recalling it.

"Our last romp!" Mr. Darling groaned.

"O George, do you remember Michael suddenly said to me, `Howdid you get to know me, mother?'"

"I remember!"

"They were rather sweet, don't you think, George?"

"And they were ours, ours! and now they are gone."

The romp had ended with the appearance of Nana, and mostunluckily Mr. Darling collided against her, covering his trouserswith hairs. They were not only new trousers, but they were thefirst he had ever had with braid on them, and he had had to bitehis lip to prevent the tears coming. Of course Mrs. Darlingbrushed him, but he began to talk again about its being a mistaketo have a dog for a nurse.

"George, Nana is a treasure."

"No doubt, but I have an uneasy feeling at times that shelooks upon the children as puppies."

"Oh no, dear one, I feel sure she knows they have souls."

"I wonder," Mr. Darling said thoughtfully, "I wonder." It wasan opportunity, his wife felt, for telling him about the boy. Atfirst he pooh-poohed the story, but he became thoughtful when sheshowed him the shadow.

"It is nobody I know," he said, examining it carefully, "but itdoes look a scoundrel."

"We were still discussing it, you remember," says Mr. Darling,"when Nana came in with Michael's medicine. You will never carrythe bottle in your mouth again, Nana, and it is all my fault."

Strong man though he was, there is no doubt that he had behavedrather foolishly over the medicine. If he had a weakness, it wasfor thinking that all his life he had taken medicine boldly, andso now, when Michael dodged the spoon in Nana's mouth, he hadsaid reprovingly, "Be a man, Michael."

"Won't; won't!" Michael cried naughtily. Mrs. Darling left theroom to get a chocolate for him, and Mr. Darling thought thisshowed want of firmness.

"Mother, don't pamper him," he called after her. "Michael,when I was your age I took medicine without a murmur. I said,`Thank you, kind parents, for giving me bottles to make wewell.'"

He really thought this was true, and Wendy, who was now in hernight-gown, believed it also, and she said, to encourageMichael, "That medicine you sometimes take, father, is muchnastier, isn't it?"

"Ever so much nastier," Mr. Darling said bravely, "and I wouldtake it now as an example to you, Michael, if I hadn't lost thebottle."

He had not exactly lost it; he had climbed in the dead of nightto the top of the wardrobe and hidden it there. What he did notknow was that the faithful Liza had found it, and put it back onhis wash-stand.

"I know where it is, father," Wendy cried, always glad to be ofservice. "I'll bring it," and she was off before he could stopher. Immediately his spirits sank in the strangest way.

"It will soon be over, father," John said cheerily, and then inrushed Wendy with the medicine in a glass.

"I have been as quick as I could," she panted.

"You have been wonderfully quick," her father retorted, with avindictive politeness that was quite thrown away upon her."Michael first," he said doggedly.

"Father first," said Michael, who was of a suspicious nature.

"I shall be sick, you know," Mr. Darling said threateningly.

"Come on, father," said John.

"Hold your tongue, John," his father rapped out.

Wendy was quite puzzled. "I thought you took it quite easily,father."

"That is not the point," he retorted. "The point is, thatthere is more in my glass than in Michael's spoon." His proudheart was nearly bursting. "And it isn't fair: I would say itthough it were with my last breath; it isn't fair."

"Father, I am waiting," said Michael coldly.

"It's all very well to say you are waiting; so am I waiting."

"Father's a cowardly custard."

"So are you a cowardly custard."

"I'm not frightened."

"Neither am I frightened."

"Well, then, take it."

"Well, then, you take it."

Wendy had a splendid idea. "Why not both take it at the sametime?"

"Certainly," said Mr. Darling. "Are you ready, Michael?"

Wendy gave the words, one, two, three, and Michael took hismedicine, but Mr. Darling slipped his behind his back.

There was a yell of rage from Michael, and "O father!" Wendyexclaimed.

"What do you mean by `O father'?" Mr. Darling demanded. "Stopthat row, Michael. I meant to take mine, but I--I missed it."

It was dreadful the way all the three were looking at him, justas if they did not admire him. "Look here, all of you," he saidentreatingly, as soon as Nana had gone into the bathroom. "Ihave just thought of a splendid joke. I shall pour my medicineinto Nana's bowl, and she will drink it, thinking it is milk!"

It was the colour of milk; but the children did not have theirfather's sense of humour, and they looked at him reproachfully ashe poured the medicine into Nana's bowl. "What fun!" he saiddoubtfully, and they did not dare expose him when Mrs. Darlingand Nana returned.

"Nana, good dog," he said, patting her, "I have put a littlemilk into your bowl, Nana."

Nana wagged her tail, ran to the medicine, and began lappingit. Then she gave Mr. Darling such a look, not an angry look:she showed him the great red tear that makes us so sorry fornoble dogs, and crept into her kennel.

"George," Mrs. Darling entreated him, "not so loud; theservants will hear you." Somehow they had got into the way ofcalling Liza the servants.

"Let them!" he answered recklessly. "Bring in the whole world.But I refuse to allow that dog to lord it in my nursery for anhour longer."

The children wept, and Nana ran to him beseechingly, but hewaved her back. He felt he was a strong man again. "In vain, invain," he cried; "the proper place for you is the yard, and thereyou go to be tied up this instant."

"George, George," Mrs. Darling whispered, "remember what I toldyou about that boy."

Alas, he would not listen. He was determined to show who wasmaster in that house, and when commands would not draw Nana fromthe kennel, he lured her out of it with honeyed words, andseizing her roughly, dragged her from the nursery. He wasashamed of himself, and yet he did it. It was all owing to histoo affectionate nature, which craved for admiration. When hehad tied her up in the back-yard, the wretched father went andsat in the passage, with his knuckles to his eyes.

In the meantime Mrs. Darling had put the children to bed inunwonted silence and lit their night-lights. They could hearNana barking, and John whimpered, "It is because he is chainingher up in the yard," but Wendy was wiser.

"That is not Nana's unhappy bark," she said, little guessingwhat was about to happen; "that is her bark when she smellsdanger."

Danger!

"Are you sure, Wendy?"

"Oh, yes."

Mrs. Darling quivered and went to the window. It was securelyfastened. She looked out, and the night was peppered with stars.They were crowding round the house, as if curious to see what wasto take place there, but she did not notice this, nor that one ortwo of the smaller ones winked at her. Yet a nameless fearclutched at her heart and made her cry, "Oh, how I wish that Iwasn't going to a party to-night!"

Even Michael, already half asleep, knew that she was perturbed,and he asked, "Can anything harm us, mother, after the night-lights are lit?"

"Nothing, precious," she said; "they are the eyes a motherleaves behind her to guard her children."

She went from bed to bed singing enchantments over them, andlittle Michael flung his arms round her. "Mother," he cried,"I'm glad of you." They were the last words she was to hear fromhim for a long time.

No. 27 was only a few yards distant, but there had been aslight fall of snow, and Father and Mother Darling picked theirway over it deftly not to soil their shoes. They were alreadythe only persons in the street, and all the stars were watchingthem. Stars are beautiful, but they may not take an active partin anything, they must just look on for ever. It is a punishmentput on them for something they did so long ago that no star nowknows what it was. So the older ones have become glassy-eyed andseldom speak (winking is the star language), but the little onesstill wonder. They are not really friendly to Peter, who had amischievous way of stealing up behind them and trying to blowthem out; but they are so fond of fun that they were on his sideto-night, and anxious to get the grown-ups out of the way. Soas soon as the door of 27 closed on Mr. and Mrs. Darling therewas a commotion in the firmament, and the smallest of all thestars in the Milky Way screamed out:

"Now, Peter!"

Chapter 3 - COME AWAY, COME AWAY!

For a moment after Mr. and Mrs. Darling left the house thenight-lights by the beds of the three children continued to burnclearly. They were awfully nice little night-lights, and onecannot help wishing that they could have kept awake to see Peter;but Wendy's light blinked and gave such a yawn that the other twoyawned also, and before they could close their mouths all thethree went out.

There was another light in the room now, a thousand timesbrighter than the night-lights, and in the time we have taken tosay this, it had been in all the drawers in the nursery, lookingfor Peter's shadow, rummaged the wardrobe and turned every pocketinside out. It was not really a light; it made this light byflashing about so quickly, but when it came to rest for a secondyou saw it was a fairy, no longer than your hand, but stillgrowing. It was a girl called Tinker Bell exquisitely gowned ina skeleton leaf, cut low and square, through which her figurecould be seen to the best advantage. She was slightly inclinedto EMBONPOINT. [plump hourglass figure]

A moment after the fairy's entrance the window was blown openby the breathing of the little stars, and Peter dropped in. Hehad carried Tinker Bell part of the way, and his hand was stillmessy with the fairy dust.

"Tinker Bell," he called softly, after making sure that thechildren were asleep, "Tink, where are you?" She was in a jugfor the moment, and liking it extremely; she had never been in ajug before.

"Oh, do come out of that jug, and tell me, do you know wherethey put my shadow?"

The loveliest tinkle as of golden bells answered him. It is thefairy language. You ordinary children can never hear it, but ifyou were to hear it you would know that you had heard it oncebefore.

Tink said that the shadow was in the big box. She meant thechest of drawers, and Peter jumped at the drawers, scatteringtheir contents to the floor with both hands, as kings tossha'pence to the crowd. In a moment he had recovered his shadow,and in his delight he forgot that he had shut Tinker Bell up inthe drawer.

If he thought at all, but I don't believe he ever thought, itwas that he and his shadow, when brought near each other, wouldjoin like drops of water, and when they did not he was appalled.He tried to stick it on with soap from the bathroom, but thatalso failed. A shudder passed through Peter, and he sat on thefloor and cried.

His sobs woke Wendy, and she sat up in bed. She was notalarmed to see a stranger crying on the nursery floor; she wasonly pleasantly interested.

"Boy," she said courteously, "why are you crying?"

Peter could be exceeding polite also, having learned the grandmanner at fairy ceremonies, and he rose and bowed to herbeautifully. She was much pleased, and bowed beautifully to himfrom the bed.

She was already sure that he must be Peter, but it did seem acomparatively short name.

"Is that all?"

"Yes," he said rather sharply. He felt for the first time thatit was a shortish name.

"I'm so sorry," said Wendy Moira Angela.

"It doesn't matter," Peter gulped.

She asked where he lived.

"Second to the right," said Peter, "and then straight on tillmorning."

"What a funny address!"

Peter had a sinking. For the first time he felt that perhapsit was a funny address.

"No, it isn't," he said.

"I mean," Wendy said nicely, remembering that she was hostess,"is that what they put on the letters?"

He wished she had not mentioned letters.

"Don't get any letters," he said contemptuously.

"But your mother gets letters?"

"Don't have a mother," he said. Not only had he no mother, buthe had not the slightest desire to have one. He thought themvery over-rated persons. Wendy, however, felt at once that shewas in the presence of a tragedy.

"O Peter, no wonder you were crying," she said, and got out ofbed and ran to him.

"I wasn't crying about mothers," he said rather indignantly."I was crying because I can't get my shadow to stick on.Besides, I wasn't crying."

"It has come off?"

"Yes."

Then Wendy saw the shadow on the floor, looking so draggled,and she was frightfully sorry for Peter. "How awful!" she said,but she could not help smiling when she saw that he had beentrying to stick it on with soap. How exactly like a boy!

Fortunately she knew at once what to do. "It must be sewn on,"she said, just a little patronisingly.

"What's sewn?" he asked.

"You're dreadfully ignorant."

"No, I'm not."

But she was exulting in his ignorance. "I shall sew it on foryou, my little man," she said, though he was tall as herself, andshe got out her housewife [sewing bag], and sewed the shadow onto Peter's foot.

"I daresay it will hurt a little," she warned him.

"Oh, I shan't cry," said Peter, who was already of the opinionthat he had never cried in his life. And he clenched his teethand did not cry, and soon his shadow was behaving properly,though still a little creased.

"Perhaps I should have ironed it," Wendy said thoughtfully, butPeter, boylike, was indifferent to appearances, and he was nowjumping about in the wildest glee. Alas, he had alreadyforgotten that he owed his bliss to Wendy. He thought he hadattached the shadow himself. "How clever I am!" he crowedrapturously, "oh, the cleverness of me!"

It is humiliating to have to confess that this conceit of Peterwas one of his most fascinating qualities. To put it with brutalfrankness, there never was a cockier boy.

But for the moment Wendy was shocked. "You conceit [braggart],"she exclaimed, with frightful sarcasm; "of course I did nothing!"

"You did a little," Peter said carelessly, and continued todance.

"A little!" she replied with hauteur [pride]; "if I am no useI can at least withdraw," and she sprang in the most dignifiedway into bed and covered her face with the blankets.

To induce her to look up he pretended to be going away, andwhen this failed he sat on the end of the bed and tapped hergently with his foot. "Wendy," he said, "don't withdraw. Ican't help crowing, Wendy, when I'm pleased with myself." Stillshe would not look up, though she was listening eagerly."Wendy," he continued, in a voice that no woman has ever yet beenable to resist, "Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys."

Now Wendy was every inch a woman, though there were not verymany inches, and she peeped out of the bed-clothes.

"Do you really think so, Peter?"

"Yes, I do."

"I think it's perfectly sweet of you," she declared, "and I'llget up again," and she sat with him on the side of the bed. Shealso said she would give him a kiss if he liked, but Peter didnot know what she meant, and he held out his hand expectantly.

"Surely you know what a kiss is?" she asked, aghast.

"I shall know when you give it to me," he replied stiffly, andnot to hurt his feeling she gave him a thimble.

"Now," said he, "shall I give you a kiss?" and she replied witha slight primness, "If you please." She made herself rathercheap by inclining her face toward him, but he merely dropped anacorn button into her hand, so she slowly returned her face towhere it had been before, and said nicely that she would wear hiskiss on the chain around her neck. It was lucky that she did putit on that chain, for it was afterwards to save her life.

When people in our set are introduced, it is customary for themto ask each other's age, and so Wendy, who always liked to do thecorrect thing, asked Peter how old he was. It was not really ahappy question to ask him; it was like an examination paper thatasks grammar, when what you want to be asked is Kings of England.

"I don't know," he replied uneasily, "but I am quite young."He really knew nothing about it, he had merely suspicions, but hesaid at a venture, "Wendy, I ran away the day I was born."

Wendy was quite surprised, but interested; and she indicated inthe charming drawing-room manner, by a touch on her night-gown,that he could sit nearer her.

"It was because I heard father and mother," he explained in alow voice, "talking about what I was to be when I became a man."He was extraordinarily agitated now. "I don't want ever to be aman," he said with passion. "I want always to be a little boyand to have fun. So I ran away to Kensington Gardens and lived along long time among the fairies."

She gave him a look of the most intense admiration, and hethought it was because he had run away, but it was really becausehe knew fairies. Wendy had lived such a home life that to knowfairies struck her as quite delightful. She poured out questionsabout them, to his surprise, for they were rather a nuisanceto him, getting in his way and so on, and indeed he sometimeshad to give them a hiding [spanking]. Still, he liked themon the whole, and he told her about the beginning of fairies.

"You see, Wendy, when the first baby laughed for the firsttime, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all wentskipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies."

Tedious talk this, but being a stay-at-home she liked it.

"And so," he went on good-naturedly, "there ought to be onefairy for every boy and girl."

"Ought to be? Isn't there?"

"No. You see children know such a lot now, they soon don'tbelieve in fairies, and every time a child says, `I don't believein fairies,' there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead."

Really, he thought they had now talked enough about fairies,and it struck him that Tinker Bell was keeping very quiet. "Ican't think where she has gone to," he said, rising, and hecalled Tink by name. Wendy's heart went flutter with a suddenthrill.

"Peter," she cried, clutching him, "you don't mean to tell methat there is a fairy in this room!"

"She was here just now," he said a little impatiently. "Youdon't hear her, do you?" and they both listened.

The sound come from the chest of drawers, and Peter made amerry face. No one could ever look quite so merry as Peter, andthe loveliest of gurgles was his laugh. He had his first laughstill.

"Wendy," he whispered gleefully, "I do believe I shut her up inthe drawer!"

He let poor Tink out of the drawer, and she flew about thenursery screaming with fury. "You shouldn't say such things,"Peter retorted. "Of course I'm very sorry, but how could I knowyou were in the drawer?"

Wendy was not listening to him. "O Peter," she cried, "if shewould only stand still and let me see her!"

"They hardly ever stand still," he said, but for one momentWendy saw the romantic figure come to rest on the cuckoo clock."O the lovely!" she cried, though Tink's face was still distortedwith passion.

He had to translate. "She is not very polite. She says youare a great [huge] ugly girl, and that she is my fairy."

He tried to argue with Tink. "You know you can't be my fairy,Tink, because I am an gentleman and you are a lady."

To this Tink replied in these words, "You silly ass," anddisappeared into the bathroom. "She is quite a common fairy,"Peter explained apologetically, "she is called Tinker Bellbecause she mends the pots and kettles [tinker = tin worker]."[Similar to "cinder" plus "elle" to get Cinderella]

They were together in the armchair by this time, and Wendyplied him with more questions.

"If you don't live in Kensington Gardens now--"

"Sometimes I do still."

"But where do you live mostly now?"

"With the lost boys."

"Who are they?"

"They are the children who fall out of their perambulators whenthe nurse is looking the other way. If they are not claimed inseven days they are sent far away to the Neverland to defrayexpenses. I'm captain."

"What fun it must be!"

"Yes," said cunning Peter, "but we are rather lonely. You seewe have no female companionship."

"Are none of the others girls?"

"Oh, no; girls, you know, are much too clever to fall out oftheir prams."

This flattered Wendy immensely. "I think," she said, "it isperfectly lovely the way you talk about girls; John there justdespises us."

For reply Peter rose and kicked John out of bed, blankets andall; one kick. This seemed to Wendy rather forward for a firstmeeting, and she told him with spirit that he was not captain inher house. However, John continued to sleep so placidly on thefloor that she allowed him to remain there. "And I know you meantto be kind," she said, relenting, "so you may give me a kiss."

For the moment she had forgotten his ignorance about kisses."I thought you would want it back," he said a little bitterly,and offered to return her the thimble.

Peter thimbled her, and almost immediately she screeched."What is it, Wendy?"

"It was exactly as if someone were pulling my hair."

"That must have been Tink. I never knew her so naughtybefore."

And indeed Tink was darting about again, using offensivelanguage.

"She says she will do that to you, Wendy, every time I give youa thimble."

"But why?"

"Why, Tink?"

Again Tink replied, "You silly ass." Peter could notunderstand why, but Wendy understood, and she was just slightlydisappointed when he admitted that he came to the nursery windownot to see her but to listen to stories.

"You see, I don't know any stories. None of the lost boysknows any stories."

"How perfectly awful," Wendy said.

"Do you know," Peter asked "why swallows build in the eaves ofhouses? It is to listen to the stories. O Wendy, your motherwas telling you such a lovely story."

"Which story was it?"

"About the prince who couldn't find the lady who wore the glassslipper."

"Peter," said Wendy excitedly, "that was Cinderella, and hefound her, and they lived happily ever after."

Peter was so glad that he rose from the floor, where they hadbeen sitting, and hurried to the window.

"Where are you going?" she cried with misgiving.

"To tell the other boys."

"Don't go Peter," she entreated, "I know such lots of stories."

Those were her precise words, so there can be no denying thatit was she who first tempted him.

He came back, and there was a greedy look in his eyes now whichought to have alarmed her, but did not.

"Oh, the stories I could tell to the boys!" she cried, and thenPeter gripped her and began to draw her toward the window.

"Let me go!" she ordered him.

"Wendy, do come with me and tell the other boys."

Of course she was very pleased to be asked, but she said, "Ohdear, I can't. Think of mummy! Besides, I can't fly."

"I'll teach you."

"Oh, how lovely to fly."

"I'll teach you how to jump on the wind's back, and then awaywe go."

"Oo!" she exclaimed rapturously.

"Wendy, Wendy, when you are sleeping in your silly bed youmight be flying about with me saying funny things to the stars."

"Oo!"

"And, Wendy, there are mermaids."

"Mermaids! With tails?"

"Such long tails."

"Oh," cried Wendy, "to see a mermaid!"

He had become frightfully cunning. "Wendy," he said, "how weshould all respect you."

She was wriggling her body in distress. It was quite as if shewere trying to remain on the nursery floor.

But he had no pity for her.

"Wendy," he said, the sly one, "you could tuck us in at night."

"Oo!"

"None of us has ever been tucked in at night."

"Oo," and her arms went out to him.

"And you could darn our clothes, and make pockets for us. Noneof us has any pockets."

How could she resist. "Of course it's awfully fascinating!"she cried. "Peter, would you teach John and Michael to fly too?"

"If you like," he said indifferently, and she ran to John andMichael and shook them. "Wake up," she cried, "Peter Pan hascome and he is to teach us to fly."

John rubbed his eyes. "Then I shall get up," he said. Ofcourse he was on the floor already. "Hallo," he said, "I am up!"

Michael was up by this time also, looking as sharp as a knifewith six blades and a saw, but Peter suddenly signed silence.Their faces assumed the awful craftiness of children listeningfor sounds from the grown-up world. All was as still as salt.Then everything was right. No, stop! Everything was wrong.Nana, who had been barking distressfully all the evening, wasquiet now. It was her silence they had heard.

"Out with the light! Hide! Quick!" cried John, taking commandfor the only time throughout the whole adventure. And thus whenLiza entered, holding Nana, the nursery seemed quite its oldself, very dark, and you would have sworn you heard its threewicked inmates breathing angelically as they slept. They werereally doing it artfully from behind the window curtains.

Liza was in a bad temper, for she was mixing the Christmaspuddings in the kitchen, and had been drawn from them, with araisin still on her cheek, by Nana's absurd suspicions. Shethought the best way of getting a little quiet was to take Nanato the nursery for a moment, but in custody of course.

"There, you suspicious brute," she said, not sorry that Nanawas in disgrace. "They are perfectly safe, aren't they? Everyone of the little angels sound asleep in bed. Listen to theirgentle breathing."

Here Michael, encouraged by his success, breathed so loudlythat they were nearly detected. Nana knew that kind ofbreathing, and she tried to drag herself out of Liza's clutches.

But Liza was dense. "No more of it, Nana," she said sternly,pulling her out of the room. "I warn you if bark again I shallgo straight for master and missus and bring them home from theparty, and then, oh, won't master whip you, just."

She tied the unhappy dog up again, but do you think Nana ceasedto bark? Bring master and missus home from the party! Why, thatwas just what she wanted. Do you think she cared whether she waswhipped so long as her charges were safe? Unfortunately Lizareturned to her puddings, and Nana, seeing that no help wouldcome from her, strained and strained at the chain until at lastshe broke it. In another moment she had burst into the dining-room of 27 and flung up her paws to heaven, her most expressiveway of making a communication. Mr. and Mrs. Darling knew at oncethat something terrible was happening in their nursery, andwithout a good-bye to their hostess they rushed into the street.

But it was now ten minutes since three scoundrels had beenbreathing behind the curtains, and Peter Pan can do a great dealin ten minutes.

We now return to the nursery.

"It's all right," John announced, emerging from his hiding-place. "I say, Peter, can you really fly?"

Instead of troubling to answer him Peter flew around the room,taking the mantelpiece on the way.

It looked delightfully easy, and they tried it first from thefloor and then from the beds, but they always went down insteadof up.

"I say, how do you do it?" asked John, rubbing his knee. Hewas quite a practical boy.

"You just think lovely wonderful thoughts," Peter explained,"and they lift you up in the air."

He showed them again.

"You're so nippy at it," John said, "couldn't you do it veryslowly once?"

Peter did it both slowly and quickly. "I've got it now,Wendy!" cried John, but soon he found he had not. Not one ofthem could fly an inch, though even Michael was in words of twosyllables, and Peter did not know A from Z.

Of course Peter had been trifling with them, for no one can flyunless the fairy dust has been blown on him. Fortunately, as wehave mentioned, one of his hands was messy with it, and he blewsome on each of them, with the most superb results.

"Now just wiggle your shoulders this way," he said, "and letgo."

They were all on their beds, and gallant Michael let go first.He did not quite mean to let go, but he did it, and immediatelyhe was borne across the room.

"I flewed!" he screamed while still in mid-air.

John let go and met Wendy near the bathroom.

"Oh, lovely!"

"Oh, ripping!"

"Look at me!"

"Look at me!"

"Look at me!"

They were not nearly so elegant as Peter, they could not helpkicking a little, but their heads were bobbing against theceiling, and there is almost nothing so delicious as that. Petergave Wendy a hand at first, but had to desist, Tink was soindignant.

Up and down they went, and round and round. Heavenly wasWendy's word.

"I say," cried John, "why shouldn't we all go out?"

Of course it was to this that Peter had been luring them.

Michael was ready: he wanted to see how long it took him to doa billion miles. But Wendy hesitated.

"Mermaids!" said Peter again.

"Oo!"

"And there are pirates."

"Pirates," cried John, seizing his Sunday hat, "let us go atonce."

It was just at this moment that Mr. and Mrs. Darling hurriedwith Nana out of 27. They ran into the middle of the street tolook up at the nursery window; and, yes, it was still shut, butthe room was ablaze with light, and most heart-gripping sight ofall, they could see in shadow on the curtain three little figuresin night attire circling round and round, not on the floor but inthe air.

Not three figures, four!

In a tremble they opened the street door. Mr. Darling wouldhave rushed upstairs, but Mrs. Darling signed him to go softly.She even tried to make her heart go softly.

Will they reach the nursery in time? If so, how delightful forthem, and we shall all breathe a sigh of relief, but there willbe no story. On the other hand, if they are not in time, Isolemnly promise that it will all come right in the end.

They would have reached the nursery in time had it not beenthat the little stars were watching them. Once again the starsblew the window open, and that smallest star of all called out:

"Cave, Peter!"

Then Peter knew that there was not a moment to lose. "Come,"he cried imperiously, and soared out at once into the night,followed by John and Michael and Wendy.

Mr. and Mrs. Darling and Nana rushed into the nursery too late.The birds were flown.

Chapter 4 - THE FLIGHT

"Second to the right, and straight on till morning."

That, Peter had told Wendy, was the way to the Neverland; buteven birds, carrying maps and consulting them at windy corners,could not have sighted it with these instructions. Peter, yousee, just said anything that came into his head.

At first his companions trusted him implicitly, and so greatwere the delights of flying that they wasted time circling roundchurch spires or any other tall objects on the way that tooktheir fancy.

John and Michael raced, Michael getting a start.

They recalled with contempt that not so long ago they hadthought themselves fine fellows for being able to fly round aroom.

Not long ago. But how long ago? They were flying over the seabefore this thought began to disturb Wendy seriously. Johnthought it was their second sea and their third night.

Sometimes it was dark and sometimes light, and now they werevery cold and again too warm. Did they really feel hungry attimes, or were they merely pretending, because Peter had such ajolly new way of feeding them? His way was to pursue birds whohad food in their mouths suitable for humans and snatch it fromthem; then the birds would follow and snatch it back; and theywould all go chasing each other gaily for miles, parting at lastwith mutual expressions of good-will. But Wendy noticed withgentle concern that Peter did not seem to know that this wasrather an odd way of getting your bread and butter, nor eventhat there are other ways.

Certainly they did not pretend to be sleepy, they were sleepy;and that was a danger, for the moment they popped off, down theyfell. The awful thing was that Peter thought this funny.

"There he goes again!" he would cry gleefully, as Michaelsuddenly dropped like a stone.

"Save him, save him!" cried Wendy, looking with horror at thecruel sea far below. Eventually Peter would dive through the air,and catch Michael just before he could strike the sea, and it waslovely the way he did it; but he always waited till the lastmoment, and you felt it was his cleverness that interested himand not the saving of human life. Also he was fond of variety,and the sport that engrossed him one moment would suddenly ceaseto engage him, so there was always the possibility that the nexttime you fell he would let you go.

He could sleep in the air without falling, by merely lying onhis back and floating, but this was, partly at least, because hewas so light that if you got behind him and blew he went faster.

"Do be more polite to him," Wendy whispered to John, when theywere playing "Follow my Leader."

"Then tell him to stop showing off," said John.

When playing Follow my Leader, Peter would fly close to thewater and touch each shark's tail in passing, just as in thestreet you may run your finger along an iron railing. Theycould not follow him in this with much success, so perhaps it wasrather like showing off, especially as he kept looking behind tosee how many tails they missed.

"You must be nice to him," Wendy impressed on her brothers."What could we do if he were to leave us!"

"We could go back," Michael said.

"How could we ever find our way back without him?"

"Well, then, we could go on," said John.

"That is the awful thing, John. We should have to go on, forwe don't know how to stop."

This was true, Peter had forgotten to show them how to stop.

John said that if the worst came to the worst, all they had todo was to go straight on, for the world was round, and so in timethey must come back to their own window.

"And who is to get food for us, John?"

"I nipped a bit out of that eagle's mouth pretty neatly,Wendy."

"After the twentieth try," Wendy reminded him. "And eventhough we became good a picking up food, see how we bump againstclouds and things if he is not near to give us a hand."

Indeed they were constantly bumping. They could now flystrongly, though they still kicked far too much; but if they sawa cloud in front of them, the more they tried to avoid it, themore certainly did they bump into it. If Nana had been with them,she would have had a bandage round Michael's forehead by thistime.

Peter was not with them for the moment, and they felt ratherlonely up there by themselves. He could go so much faster thanthey that he would suddenly shoot out of sight, to have someadventure in which they had no share. He would come downlaughing over something fearfully funny he had been saying to astar, but he had already forgotten what it was, or he would comeup with mermaid scales still sticking to him, and yet not be ableto say for certain what had been happening. It was really ratherirritating to children who had never seen a mermaid.

"And if he forgets them so quickly," Wendy argued, "how can weexpect that he will go on remembering us?"

Indeed, sometimes when he returned he did not remember them, atleast not well. Wendy was sure of it. She saw recognition comeinto his eyes as he was about to pass them the time of day and goon; once even she had to call him by name.

"I'm Wendy," she said agitatedly.

He was very sorry. "I say, Wendy," he whispered to her,"always if you see me forgetting you, just keep on saying `I'mWendy,' and then I'll remember."

Of course this was rather unsatisfactory. However, to makeamends he showed them how to lie out flat on a strong wind thatwas going their way, and this was such a pleasant change thatthey tried it several times and found that they could sleep thus withsecurity. Indeed they would have slept longer, but Peter tiredquickly of sleeping, and soon he would cry in his captain voice,"We get off here." So with occasional tiffs, but on the wholerollicking, they drew near the Neverland; for after many moonsthey did reach it, and, what is more, they had been going prettystraight all the time, not perhaps so much owing to the guidanceof Peter or Tink as because the island was looking for them. Itis only thus that any one may sight those magic shores.

"There it is," said Peter calmly.

"Where, where?"

"Where all the arrows are pointing."

Indeed a million golden arrows were pointing it out to thechildren, all directed by their friend the sun, who wantedthem to be sure of their way before leaving them for the night.

Wendy and John and Michael stood on tip-toe in the air to gettheir first sight of the island. Strange to say, they allrecognized it at once, and until fear fell upon them they hailedit, not as something long dreamt of and seen at last, but as afamiliar friend to whom they were returning home for the holidays.

"John, there's the lagoon."

"Wendy, look at the turtles burying their eggs in the sand."

"I say, John, I see your flamingo with the broken leg!"

"Look, Michael, there's your cave!"

"John, what's that in the brushwood?"

"It's a wolf with her whelps. Wendy, I do believe that's yourlittle whelp!"

"There's my boat, John, with her sides stove in!"

"No, it isn't. Why, we burned your boat."

"That's her, at any rate. I say, John, I see the smoke of theredskin camp!"

"Where? Show me, and I'll tell you by the way smoke curlswhether they are on the war-path."

"There, just across the Mysterious River."

"I see now. Yes, they are on the war-path right enough."

Peter was a little annoyed with them for knowing so much, butif he wanted to lord it over them his triumph was at hand, forhave I not told you that anon fear fell upon them?

It came as the arrows went, leaving the island in gloom.

In the old days at home the Neverland had always begun to looka little dark and threatening by bedtime. Then unexploredpatches arose in it and spread, black shadows moved about inthem, the roar of the beasts of prey was quite different now, andabove all, you lost the certainty that you would win. You werequite glad that the night-lights were on. You even liked Nana tosay that this was just the mantelpiece over here, and that theNeverland was all make-believe.

Of course the Neverland had been make-believe in those days,but it was real now, and there were no night-lights, and it wasgetting darker every moment, and where was Nana?

They had been flying apart, but they huddled close to Peternow. His careless manner had gone at last, his eyes weresparkling, and a tingle went through them every time they touchedhis body. They were now over the fearsome island, flying so lowthat sometimes a tree grazed their feet. Nothing horrid wasvisible in the air, yet their progress had become slow andlaboured, exactly as if they were pushing their way throughhostile forces. Sometimes they hung in the air until Peter hadbeaten on it with his fists.

"They don't want us to land," he explained.

"Who are they?" Wendy whispered, shuddering.

But he could not or would not say. Tinker Bell had been asleepon his shoulder, but now he wakened her and sent her on in front.

Sometimes he poised himself in the air, listening intently, withhis hand to his ear, and again he would stare down with eyes sobright that they seemed to bore two holes to earth. Having donethese things, he went on again.

His courage was almost appalling. "Would you like an adventurenow," he said casually to John, "or would you like to have yourtea first?"

Wendy said "tea first" quickly, and Michael pressed her handin gratitude, but the braver John hesitated.

"What kind of adventure?" he asked cautiously.

"There's a pirate asleep in the pampas just beneath us," Petertold him. "If you like, we'll go down and kill him."

"I don't see him," John said after a long pause.

"I do."

"Suppose," John said, a little huskily, "he were to wake up."

Peter spoke indignantly. "You don't think I would kill himwhile he was sleeping! I would wake him first, and then killhim. That's the way I always do."

"I say! Do you kill many?"

"Tons."

John said "How ripping," but decided to have tea first. Heasked if there were many pirates on the island just now, andPeter said he had never known so many.

"Who is captain now?"

"Hook," answered Peter, and his face became very stern as hesaid that hated word.

"Jas. Hook?"

"Ay."

Then indeed Michael began to cry, and even John could speak ingulps only, for they knew Hook's reputation.

"He was Blackbeard's bo'sun," John whispered huskily. "He isthe worst of them all. He is the only man of whom Barbecue wasafraid."

"That's him," said Peter.

"What is he like? Is he big?"

"He is not so big as he was."

"How do you mean?"

"I cut off a bit of him."

"You!"

"Yes, me," said Peter sharply.

"I wasn't meaning to be disrespectful."

"Oh, all right."

"But, I say, what bit?"

"His right hand."

"Then he can't fight now?"

"Oh, can't he just!"

"Left-hander?"

"He has an iron hook instead of a right hand, and he claws withit."

"Claws!"

"I say, John," said Peter.

"Yes."

"Say, `Ay, ay, sir.'"

"Ay, ay, sir."

"There is one thing," Peter continued, "that every boy whoserves under me has to promise, and so must you."

John paled.

"It is this, if we meet Hook in open fight, you must leave himto me."

"I promise," John said loyally.

For the moment they were feeling less eerie, because Tink wasflying with them, and in her light they could distinguish eachother. Unfortunately she could not fly so slowly as they, andso she had to go round and round them in a circle in which theymoved as in a halo. Wendy quite liked it, until Peter pointedout the drawbacks.

"Seems to me," growled John, "these are the only two thingsworth doing."

Here he got a pinch, but not a loving one.

"If only one of us had a pocket," Peter said, "we could carryher in it." However, they had set off in such a hurry that therewas not a pocket between the four of them.

He had a happy idea. John's hat!

Tink agreed to travel by hat if it was carried in the hand.John carried it, though she had hoped to be carried by Peter.Presently Wendy took the hat, because John said it struck againsthis knee as he flew; and this, as we shall see, led to mischief,for Tinker Bell hated to be under an obligation to Wendy.

In the black topper the light was completely hidden, and theyflew on in silence. It was the stillest silence they had everknown, broken once by a distant lapping, which Peter explainedwas the wild beasts drinking at the ford, and again by a raspingsound that might have been the branches of trees rubbingtogether, but he said it was the redskins sharpening theirknives.

Even these noises ceased. To Michael the loneliness wasdreadful. "If only something would make a sound!" he cried.

As if in answer to his request, the air was rent by the mosttremendous crash he had ever heard. The pirates had fired LongTom at them.

The roar of it echoed through the mountains, and the echoesseemed to cry savagely, "Where are they, where are they, whereare they?"

Thus sharply did the terrified three learn the differencebetween an island of make-believe and the same island come true.

When at last the heavens were steady again, John and Michaelfound themselves alone in the darkness. John was treading theair mechanically, and Michael without knowing how to float wasfloating.

"Are you shot?" John whispered tremulously.

"I haven't tried [myself out] yet," Michael whispered back.

We know now that no one had been hit. Peter, however, had beencarried by the wind of the shot far out to sea, while Wendy wasblown upwards with no companion but Tinker Bell.

It would have been well for Wendy if at that moment she haddropped the hat.

I don't know whether the idea came suddenly to Tink, or whethershe had planned it on the way, but she at once popped out of thehat and began to lure Wendy to her destruction.

Tink was not all bad; or, rather, she was all bad just now,but, on the other hand, sometimes she was all good. Fairies haveto be one thing or the other, because being so small theyunfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time. Theyare, however, allowed to change, only it must be a completechange. At present she was full of jealousy of Wendy. What shesaid in her lovely tinkle Wendy could not of course understand,and I believe some of it was bad words, but it sounded kind, andshe flew back and forward, plainly meaning "Follow me, and allwill be well."

What else could poor Wendy do? She called to Peter and Johnand Michael, and got only mocking echoes in reply. She did notyet know that Tink hated her with the fierce hatred of a verywoman. And so, bewildered, and now staggering in her flight, shefollowed Tink to her doom.

Chapter 5 - THE ISLAND COME TRUE

Feeling that Peter was on his way back, the Neverland had againwoke into life. We ought to use the pluperfect and say wakened,but woke is better and was always used by Peter.

In his absence things are usually quiet on the island. Thefairies take an hour longer in the morning, the beasts attend totheir young, the redskins feed heavily for six days and nights,and when pirates and lost boys meet they merely bite their thumbsat each other. But with the coming of Peter, who hates lethargy,they are under way again: if you put your ear to the ground now,you would hear the whole island seething with life.

On this evening the chief forces of the island were disposed asfollows. The lost boys were out looking for Peter, the pirateswere out looking for the lost boys, the redskins were out lookingfor the pirates, and the beasts were out looking for theredskins. They were going round and round the island, but theydid not meet because all were going at the same rate.

All wanted blood except the boys, who liked it as a rule, butto-night were out to greet their captain. The boys on theisland vary, of course, in numbers, according as they get killedand so on; and when they seem to be growing up, which is againstthe rules, Peter thins them out; but at this time there were sixof them, counting the twins as two. Let us pretend to lie hereamong the sugar-cane and watch them as they steal by in singlefile, each with his hand on his dagger.

They are forbidden by Peter to look in the least like him, andthey wear the skins of the bears slain by themselves, in whichthey are so round and furry that when they fall they roll. Theyhave therefore become very sure-footed.

The first to pass is Tootles, not the least brave but the mostunfortunate of all that gallant band. He had been in feweradventures than any of them, because the big things constantlyhappened just when he had stepped round the corner; all would bequiet, he would take the opportunity of going off to gather a fewsticks for firewood, and then when he returned the others wouldbe sweeping up the blood. This ill-luck had given a gentlemelancholy to his countenance, but instead of souring his naturehad sweetened it, so that he was quite the humblest of the boys.Poor kind Tootles, there is danger in the air for you to-night.Take care lest an adventure is now offered you, which, ifaccepted, will plunge you in deepest woe. Tootles, the fairyTink, who is bent on mischief this night is looking for atool [for doing her mischief], and she thinks you are themost easily tricked of the boys. 'Ware Tinker Bell.

Would that he could hear us, but we are not really on theisland, and he passes by, biting his knuckles.

Next comes Nibs, the gay and debonair, followed by Slightly,who cuts whistles out of the trees and dances ecstatically to hisown tunes. Slightly is the most conceited of the boys. Hethinks he remembers the days before he was lost, with theirmanners and customs, and this has given his nose an offensivetilt. Curly is fourth; he is a pickle, [a person who gets inpickles-predicaments] and so often has he had to deliver up hisperson when Peter said sternly, "Stand forth the one who did thisthing," that now at the command he stands forth automaticallywhether he has done it or not. Last come the Twins, who cannotbe described because we should be sure to be describing the wrongone. Peter never quite knew what twins were, and his band werenot allowed to know anything he did not know, so these two werealways vague about themselves, and did their best to givesatisfaction by keeping close together in an apologetic sort ofway.

The boys vanish in the gloom, and after a pause, but not a longpause, for things go briskly on the island, come the pirates ontheir track. We hear them before they are seen, and it is alwaysthe same dreadful song:

A more villainous-looking lot never hung in a row on Executiondock. Here, a little in advance, ever and again with his head tothe ground listening, his great arms bare, pieces of eight in hisears as ornaments, is the handsome Italian Cecco, who cut hisname in letters of blood on the back of the governor of theprison at Gao. That gigantic black behind him has had manynames since he dropped the one with which dusky mothers stillterrify their children on the banks of the Guadjo-mo. Here isBill Jukes, every inch of him tattooed, the same Bill Jukes whogot six dozen on the WALRUS from Flint before he would drop thebag of moidores [Portuguese gold pieces]; and Cookson, said to beBlack Murphy's brother (but this was never proved), and GentlemanStarkey, once an usher in a public school and still dainty in hisways of killing; and Skylights (Morgan's Skylights); and theIrish bo'sun Smee, an oddly genial man who stabbed, so to speak,without offence, and was the only Non-conformist in Hook's crew;and Noodler, whose hands were fixed on backwards; and Robt.Mullins and Alf Mason and many another ruffian long known andfeared on the Spanish Main.

In the midst of them, the blackest and largest in that darksetting, reclined James Hook, or as he wrote himself, Jas. Hook,of whom it is said he was the only man that the Sea-Cook feared.He lay at his ease in a rough chariot drawn and propelled by hismen, and instead of a right hand he had the iron hook with whichever and anon he encouraged them to increase their pace. As dogsthis terrible man treated and addressed them, and as dogs theyobeyed him. In person he was cadaverous [dead looking] andblackavized [dark faced], and his hair was dressed in long curls,which at a little distance looked like black candles, and gave asingularly threatening expression to his handsome countenance.His eyes were of the blue of the forget-me-not, and of a profoundmelancholy, save when he was plunging his hook into you, at whichtime two red spots appeared in them and lit them up horribly. Inmanner, something of the grand seigneur still clung to him, sothat he even ripped you up with an air, and I have been told thathe was a RACONTEUR [storyteller] of repute. He was never moresinister than when he was most polite, which is probably thetruest test of breeding; and the elegance of his diction, evenwhen he was swearing, no less than the distinction of hisdemeanour, showed him one of a different cast from his crew. Aman of indomitable courage, it was said that the only thing heshied at was the sight of his own blood, which was thick and ofan unusual colour. In dress he somewhat aped the attireassociated with the name of Charles II, having heard it said insome earlier period of his career that he bore a strangeresemblance to the ill-fated Stuarts; and in his mouth he had aholder of his own contrivance which enabled him to smoke twocigars at once. But undoubtedly the grimmest part of him was hisiron claw.

Let us now kill a pirate, to show Hook's method. Skylightswill do. As they pass, Skylights lurches clumsily against him,ruffling his lace collar; the hook shoots forth, there is atearing sound and one screech, then the body is kicked aside,and the pirates pass on. He has not even taken the cigars fromhis mouth.

Such is the terrible man against whom Peter Pan is pitted.Which will win?

On the trail of the pirates, stealing noiselessly down the war-path, which is not visible to inexperienced eyes, come theredskins, every one of them with his eyes peeled. They carrytomahawks and knives, and their naked bodies gleam with paint andoil. Strung around them are scalps, of boys as well as ofpirates, for these are the Piccaninny tribe, and not to beconfused with the softer-hearted Delawares or the Hurons. In thevan, on all fours, is Great Big Little Panther, a brave of somany scalps that in his present position they somewhat impede hisprogress. Bringing up the rear, the place of greatest danger,comes Tiger Lily, proudly erect, a princess in her own right.She is the most beautiful of dusky Dianas [Diana = goddess of thewoods] and the belle of the Piccaninnies, coquettish [flirting],cold and amorous [loving] by turns; there is not a brave whowould not have the wayward thing to wife, but she staves off thealtar with a hatchet. Observe how they pass over fallen twigswithout making the slightest noise. The only sound to be heardis their somewhat heavy breathing. The fact is that they are alla little fat just now after the heavy gorging, but in time theywill work this off. For the moment, however, it constitutestheir chief danger.

The redskins disappear as they have come like shadows, and soontheir place is taken by the beasts, a great and motleyprocession: lions, tigers, bears, and the innumerable smallersavage things that flee from them, for every kind of beast, and,more particularly, all the man-eaters, live cheek by jowl on thefavoured island. Their tongues are hanging out, they are hungryto-night.

When they have passed, comes the last figure of all, a giganticcrocodile. We shall see for whom she is looking presently.

The crocodile passes, but soon the boys appear again, for theprocession must continue indefinitely until one of the partiesstops or changes its pace. Then quickly they will be on top ofeach other.

All are keeping a sharp look-out in front, but none suspectsthat the danger may be creeping up from behind. This shows howreal the island was.

The first to fall out of the moving circle was the boys. Theyflung themselves down on the sward [turf], close to theirunderground home.

"I do wish Peter would come back," every one of them saidnervously, though in height and still more in breadth they wereall larger than their captain.

"I am the only one who is not afraid of the pirates," Slightlysaid, in the tone that prevented his being a general favourite;but perhaps some distant sound disturbed him, for he addedhastily, "but I wish he would come back, and tell us whether hehas heard anything more about Cinderella."

They talked of Cinderella, and Tootles was confident that hismother must have been very like her.

It was only in Peter's absence that they could speak ofmothers, the subject being forbidden by him as silly.

"All I remember about my mother," Nibs told them, "is that sheoften said to my father, `Oh, how I wish I had a cheque-book ofmy own!' I don't know what a cheque-book is, but I should justlove to give my mother one."

While they talked they heard a distant sound. You or I, notbeing wild things of the woods, would have heard nothing, butthey heard it, and it was the grim song:

At once the lost boys--but where are they? They are nolonger there. Rabbits could not have disappeared more quickly.

I will tell you where they are. With the exception of Nibs,who has darted away to reconnoitre [look around], they arealready in their home under the ground, a very delightfulresidence of which we shall see a good deal presently. But howhave they reached it? for there is no entrance to be seen, not somuch as a large stone, which if rolled away, would disclosethe mouth of a cave. Look closely, however, and you may notethat there are here seven large trees, each with a hole in itshollow trunk as large as a boy. These are the seven entrances tothe home under the ground, for which Hook has been searching invain these many moons. Will he find it tonight?

As the pirates advanced, the quick eye of Starkey sighted Nibsdisappearing through the wood, and at once his pistol flashedout. But an iron claw gripped his shoulder.

"Captain, let go!" he cried, writhing.

Now for the first time we hear the voice of Hook. It was ablack voice. "Put back that pistol first," it saidthreateningly.

"It was one of those boys you hate. I could have shot himdead."

"Ay, and the sound would have brought Tiger Lily's redskinsupon us. Do you want to lose your scalp?"

"Shall I after him, Captain," asked pathetic Smee, "and ticklehim with Johnny Corkscrew?" Smee had pleasant names foreverything, and his cutlass was Johnny Corkscrew, because hewiggled it in the wound. One could mention many lovable traitsin Smee. For instance, after killing, it was his spectacles hewiped instead of his weapon.

"Johnny's a silent fellow," he reminded Hook.

"Not now, Smee," Hook said darkly. "He is only one, and I wantto mischief all the seven. Scatter and look for them."

The pirates disappeared among the trees, and in a moment theirCaptain and Smee were alone. Hook heaved a heavy sigh, and Iknow not why it was, perhaps it was because of the soft beautyof the evening, but there came over him a desire to confide tohis faithful bo'sun the story of his life. He spoke long andearnestly, but what it was all about Smee, who was ratherstupid, did not know in the least.

"And yet," said Smee, "I have often heard you say that hook wasworth a score of hands, for combing the hair and other homelyuses."

"Ay," the captain answered, "if I was a mother I would pray tohave my children born with this instead of that," and he cast alook of pride upon his iron hand and one of scorn upon the other.Then again he frowned.

"Not of crocodiles," Hook corrected him, "but of that onecrocodile." He lowered his voice. "It liked my arm so much,Smee, that it has followed me ever since, from sea to sea andfrom land to land, licking its lips for the rest of me."

"In a way," said Smee, "it's sort of a compliment."

"I want no such compliments," Hook barked petulantly. "I wantPeter Pan, who first gave the brute its taste for me."

He sat down on a large mushroom, and now there was a quiver inhis voice. "Smee," he said huskily, "that crocodile would havehad me before this, but by a lucky chance it swallowed a clockwhich goes tick tick inside it, and so before it can reach me Ihear the tick and bolt." He laughed, but in a hollow way.

"Some day," said Smee, "the clock will run down, and then he'llget you."

They examined the mushroom, which was of a size and solidityunknown on the mainland; they tried to pull it up, and it cameaway at once in their hands, for it had no root. Stranger still,smoke began at once to ascend. The pirates looked at each other."A chimney!" they both exclaimed.

They had indeed discovered the chimney of the home under theground. It was the custom of the boys to stop it with a mushroomwhen enemies were in the neighbourhood.

Not only smoke came out of it. There came also children'svoices, for so safe did the boys feel in their hiding-place thatthey were gaily chattering. The pirates listened grimly, andthen replaced the mushroom. They looked around them and notedthe holes in the seven trees.

Hook nodded. He stood for a long time lost in thought, and atlast a curdling smile lit up his swarthy face. Smee had beenwaiting for it. "Unrip your plan, captain," he cried eagerly.

"To return to the ship," Hook replied slowly through his teeth,"and cook a large rich cake of a jolly thickness with green sugaron it. There can be but one room below, for there is but onechimney. The silly moles had not the sense to see that they didnot need a door apiece. That shows they have no mother. We willleave the cake on the shore of the Mermaids' Lagoon. These boysare always swimming about there, playing with the mermaids. Theywill find the cake and they will gobble it up, because, having nomother, they don't know how dangerous 'tis to eat rich dampcake." He burst into laughter, not hollow laughter now, buthonest laughter. "Aha, they will die."

Smee had listened with growing admiration.

"It's the wickedest, prettiest policy ever I heard of!" hecried, and in their exultation they danced and sang:

"Avast, belay, when I appear,By fear they're overtook;Nought's left upon your bones when youHave shaken claws with Hook."

They began the verse, but they never finished it, for anothersound broke in and stilled them. There was at first such a tinysound that a leaf might have fallen on it and smothered it, butas it came nearer it was more distinct.

Tick tick tick tick!

Hook stood shuddering, one foot in the air.

"The crocodile!" he gasped, and bounded away, followed by hisbo'sun.

It was indeed the crocodile. It had passed the redskins, whowere now on the trail of the other pirates. It oozed on afterHook.

Once more the boys emerged into the open; but the dangers ofthe night were not yet over, for presently Nibs rushed breathlessinto their midst, pursued by a pack of wolves. The tongues ofthe pursuers were hanging out; the baying of them was horrible.

"Save me, save me!" cried Nibs, falling on the ground.

"But what can we do, what can we do?"

It was a high compliment to Peter that at that dire momenttheir thoughts turned to him.

"What would Peter do?" they cried simultaneously.

Almost in the same breath they cried, "Peter would look at themthrough his legs."

And then, "Let us do what Peter would do."

It is quite the most successful way of defying wolves, and asone boy they bent and looked through their legs. The nextmoment is the long one, but victory came quickly, for as the boysadvanced upon them in the terrible attitude, the wolves droppedtheir tails and fled.

Now Nibs rose from the ground, and the others thought that hisstaring eyes still saw the wolves. But it was not wolves he saw.

"I have seen a wonderfuller thing," he cried, as they gatheredround him eagerly. "A great white bird. It is flying this way."

Wendy was now almost overhead, and they could hear herplaintive cry. But more distinct came the shrill voice of TinkerBell. The jealous fairy had now cast off all disguise offriendship, and was darting at her victim from every direction,pinching savagely each time she touched.

"Hullo, Tink," cried the wondering boys.

Tink's reply rang out: "Peter wants you to shoot the Wendy."

It was not in their nature to question when Peter ordered."Let us do what Peter wishes!" cried the simple boys. "Quick,bows and arrows!"

All but Tootles popped down their trees. He had a bow andarrow with him, and Tink noted it, and rubbed her little hands.

"Quick, Tootles, quick," she screamed. "Peter will be sopleased."

Tootles excitedly fitted the arrow to his bow. "Out of theway, Tink," he shouted, and then he fired, and Wendy fluttered tothe ground with an arrow in her breast.

Chapter 6 - THE LITTLE HOUSE

Foolish Tootles was standing like a conqueror over Wendy's bodywhen the other boys sprang, armed, from their trees.

"You are too late," he cried proudly, "I have shot the Wendy.Peter will be so pleased with me."

Overhead Tinker Bell shouted "Silly ass!" and darted intohiding. The others did not hear her. They had crowded roundWendy, and as they looked a terrible silence fell upon the wood.If Wendy's heart had been beating they would all have heard it.

Slightly was the first to speak. "This is no bird," he said ina scared voice. "I think this must be a lady."

"A lady?" said Tootles, and fell a-trembling.

"And we have killed her," Nibs said hoarsely.

They all whipped off their caps.

"Now I see," Curly said: "Peter was bringing her to us." Hethrew himself sorrowfully on the ground.

"A lady to take care of us at last," said one of the twins,"and you have killed her!"

They were sorry for him, but sorrier for themselves, and whenhe took a step nearer them they turned from him.

Tootles' face was very white, but there was a dignity about himnow that had never been there before.

"I did it," he said, reflecting. "When ladies used to come tome in dreams, I said, `Pretty mother, pretty mother.' But whenat last she really came, I shot her."

He moved slowly away.

"Don't go," they called in pity.

"I must," he answered, shaking; "I am so afraid of Peter."

It was at this tragic moment that they heard a sound which madethe heart of every one of them rise to his mouth. They heardPeter crow.

"Peter!" they cried, for it was always thus that he signalledhis return.

Peter did not hear him. He was begging Wendy to get betterquickly, so that he could show her the mermaids. Of course shecould not answer yet, being still in a frightful faint; but fromoverhead came a wailing note.

"Listen to Tink," said Curly, "she is crying because the Wendy lives."

Then they had to tell Peter of Tink's crime, and almost neverhad they seen him look so stern.

She flew on to his shoulder and pleaded, but he brushed heroff. Not until Wendy again raised her arm did he relentsufficiently to say, "Well, not for ever, but for a whole week."

Do you think Tinker Bell was grateful to Wendy for raising herarm? Oh dear no, never wanted to pinch her so much. Fairiesindeed are strange, and Peter, who understood them best, oftencuffed [slapped] them.

But what to do with Wendy in her present delicate state ofhealth?

"Let us carry her down into the house," Curly suggested.

"Ay," said Slightly, "that is what one does with ladies."

"No, no," Peter said, "you must not touch her. It would not besufficiently respectful."

"That," said Slightly, "is what I was thinking."

"But if she lies there," Tootles said, "she will die."

"Ay, she will die," Slightly admitted, "but there is no wayout."

"Yes, there is," cried Peter. "Let us build a little houseround her."

They were all delighted. "Quick," he ordered them, "bring meeach of you the best of what we have. Gut our house. Be sharp."

In a moment they were as busy as tailors the night before awedding. They skurried this way and that, down for bedding, upfor firewood, and while they were at it, who should appear butJohn and Michael. As they dragged along the ground they fellasleep standing, stopped, woke up, moved another step and sleptagain.

"John, John," Michael would cry, "wake up! Where is Nana,John, and mother?"

And then John would rub his eyes and mutter, "It is true, wedid fly."

You may be sure they were very relieved to find Peter.

"Hullo, Peter," they said.

"Hullo," replied Peter amicably, though he had quite forgottenthem. He was very busy at the moment measuring Wendy with hisfeet to see how large a house she would need. Of course he meantto leave room for chairs and a table. John and Michael watchedhim.

"Is Wendy asleep?" they asked.

"Yes."

"John," Michael proposed, "let us wake her and get her to makesupper for us," but as he said it some of the other boys rushedon carrying branches for the building of the house. "Look atthem!" he cried.

"Curly," said Peter in his most captainy voice, "see that theseboys help in the building of the house."

"Ay, ay, sir."

"Build a house?" exclaimed John.

"For the Wendy," said Curly.

"For Wendy?" John said, aghast. "Why, she is only a girl!"

"That," explained Curly, "is why we are her servants."

"You? Wendy's servants!"

"Yes," said Peter, "and you also. Away with them."

The astounded brothers were dragged away to hack and hew andcarry. "Chairs and a fender [fireplace] first," Peter ordered."Then we shall build a house round them."

"Ay," said Slightly, "that is how a house is built; it allcomes back to me."

Peter thought of everything. "Slightly," he cried, "fetch adoctor."

"Ay, ay," said Slightly at once, and disappeared, scratching hishead. But he knew Peter must be obeyed, and he returned in amoment, wearing John's hat and looking solemn.

"Please, sir," said Peter, going to him, "are you a doctor?"

The difference between him and the other boys at such a timewas that they knew it was make-believe, while to him make-believeand true were exactly the same thing. This sometimes troubledthem, as when they had to make-believe that they had had theirdinners.

If they broke down in their make-believe he rapped them on theknuckles.

She was lying at their feet, but Slightly had the sense not tosee her.

"Tut, tut, tut," he said, "where does she lie?"

"In yonder glade."

"I will put a glass thing in her mouth," said Slightly, and hemade-believe to do it, while Peter waited. It was an anxiousmoment when the glass thing was withdrawn.

"How is she?" inquired Peter.

"Tut, tut, tut," said Slightly, "this has cured her."

"I am glad!" Peter cried.

"I will call again in the evening," Slightly said; "give herbeef tea out of a cup with a spout to it"; but after he hadreturned the hat to John he blew big breaths, which was his habiton escaping from a difficulty.

In the meantime the wood had been alive with the sound of axes;almost everything needed for a cosy dwelling already lay atWendy's feet.

They gurgled with joy at this, for by the greatest good luckthe branches they had brought were sticky with red sap, and allthe ground was carpeted with moss. As they rattled up the littlehouse they broke into song themselves:

"We've built the little walls and roofAnd made a lovely door,So tell us, mother Wendy,What are you wanting more?"

With a blow of their fists they made windows, and large yellowleaves were the blinds. But roses--?

"Roses," cried Peter sternly.

Quickly they made-believe to grow the loveliest roses up thewalls.

Babies?

To prevent Peter ordering babies they hurried into song again:

"We've made the roses peeping out,The babes are at the door,We cannot make ourselves, you know,'cos we've been made before."

Peter, seeing this to be a good idea, at once pretended that itwas his own. The house was quite beautiful, and no doubt Wendywas very cosy within, though, of course, they could no longer seeher. Peter strode up and down, ordering finishing touches.Nothing escaped his eagle eyes. Just when it seemed absolutelyfinished:

"There's no knocker on the door," he said.

They were very ashamed, but Tootles gave the sole of his shoe,and it made an excellent knocker.

Absolutely finished now, they thought.

Not of bit of it. "There's no chimney," Peter said; "we musthave a chimney."

"It certainly does need a chimney," said John importantly.This gave Peter an idea. He snatched the hat off John's head,knocked out the bottom [top], and put the hat on the roof. Thelittle house was so pleased to have such a capital chimney that,as if to say thank you, smoke immediately began to come out ofthe hat.

Now really and truly it was finished. Nothing remained to dobut to knock.

He was glad no one asked him what first impressions are; theywere all too busy looking their best.

He knocked politely, and now the wood was as still as thechildren, not a sound to be heard except from Tinker Bell, who waswatching from a branch and openly sneering.

What the boys were wondering was, would any one answer theknock? If a lady, what would she be like?

The door opened and a lady came out. It was Wendy. They allwhipped off their hats.

She looked properly surprised, and this was just how they hadhoped she would look.

"Where am I?" she said.

Of course Slightly was the first to get his word in. "Wendylady," he said rapidly, "for you we built this house."

"Oh, say you're pleased," cried Nibs.

"Lovely, darling house," Wendy said, and they were the verywords they had hoped she would say.

"And we are your children," cried the twins.

Then all went on their knees, and holding out their arms cried,"O Wendy lady, be our mother."

"Ought I?" Wendy said, all shining. "Of course it'sfrightfully fascinating, but you see I am only a little girl. Ihave no real experience."

"That doesn't matter," said Peter, as if he were the onlyperson present who knew all about it, though he was really theone who knew least. "What we need is just a nice motherlyperson."

"Oh dear!" Wendy said, "you see, I feel that is exactly what Iam."

"It is, it is," they all cried; "we saw it at once."

"Very well," she said, "I will do my best. Come inside atonce, you naughty children; I am sure your feet are damp. Andbefore I put you to bed I have just time to finish the story ofCinderella."

In they went; I don't know how there was room for them, but youcan squeeze very tight in the Neverland. And that was the firstof the many joyous evenings they had with Wendy. By and by shetucked them up in the great bed in the home under the trees, butshe herself slept that night in the little house, and Peter keptwatch outside with drawn sword, for the pirates could be heardcarousing far away and the wolves were on the prowl. The littlehouse looked so cosy and safe in the darkness, with a brightlight showing through its blinds, and the chimney smokingbeautifully, and Peter standing on guard. After a time he fellasleep, and some unsteady fairies had to climb over him on theirway home from an orgy. Any of the other boys obstructing thefairy path at night they would have mischiefed, but they justtweaked Peter's nose and passed on.

Chapter 7 - THE HOME UNDER THE GROUND

One of the first things Peter did next day was to measure Wendyand John and Michael for hollow trees. Hook, you remember, hadsneered at the boys for thinking they needed a tree apiece, butthis was ignorance, for unless your tree fitted you it wasdifficult to go up and down, and no two of the boys were quitethe same size. Once you fitted, you drew in [let out] yourbreath at the top, and down you went at exactly the right speed,while to ascend you drew in and let out alternately, and sowriggled up. Of course, when you have mastered the action youare able to do these things without thinking of them, and nothingcan be more graceful.

But you simply must fit, and Peter measures you for your treeas carefully as for a suit of clothes: the only difference beingthat the clothes are made to fit you, while you have to be madeto fit the tree. Usually it is done quite easily, as by yourwearing too many garments or too few, but if you are bumpy inawkward places or the only available tree is an odd shape, Peterdoes some things to you, and after that you fit. Once you fit,great care must be taken to go on fitting, and this, as Wendy wasto discover to her delight, keeps a whole family in perfectcondition.

Wendy and Michael fitted their trees at the first try, but Johnhad to be altered a little.

After a few days' practice they could go up and down as gailyas buckets in a well. And how ardently they grew to love theirhome under the ground; especially Wendy. It consisted of onelarge room, as all houses should do, with a floor in which youcould dig [for worms] if you wanted to go fishing, and in thisfloor grew stout mushrooms of a charming colour, which were usedas stools. A Never tree tried hard to grow in the centre of theroom, but every morning they sawed the trunk through, level withthe floor. By tea-time it was always about two feet high, andthen they put a door on top of it, the whole thus becoming atable; as soon as they cleared away, they sawed off the trunkagain, and thus there was more room to play. There was anenourmous fireplace which was in almost any part of the roomwhere you cared to light it, and across this Wendy stretchedstrings, made of fibre, from which she suspended her washing.The bed was tilted against the wall by day, and let down at 6:30,when it filled nearly half the room; and all the boys sleptin it, except Michael, lying like sardines in a tin. There was astrict rule against turning round until one gave the signal, whenall turned at once. Michael should have used it also, but Wendywould have [desired] a baby, and he was the littlest, and you knowwhat women are, and the short and long of it is that he was hungup in a basket.

It was rough and simple, and not unlike what baby bears wouldhave made of an underground house in the same circumstances. Butthere was one recess in the wall, no larger than a bird-cage,which was the private apartment of Tinker Bell. It could be shutoff from the rest of the house by a tiny curtain, which Tink, whowas most fastidious [particular], always kept drawn when dressingor undressing. No woman, however large, could have had a moreexquisite boudoir [dressing room] and bed-chamber combined. Thecouch, as she always called it, was a genuine Queen Mab, withclub legs; and she varied the bedspreads according to what fruit-blossom was in season. Her mirror was a Puss-in-Boots, of whichthere are now only three, unchipped, known to fairy dealers; thewashstand was Pie-crust and reversible, the chest of drawers anauthentic Charming the Sixth, and the carpet and rugs the best(the early) period of Margery and Robin. There was a chandelierfrom Tiddlywinks for the look of the thing, but of course she litthe residence herself. Tink was very contemptuous of the rest ofthe house, as indeed was perhaps inevitable, and her chamber,though beautiful, looked rather conceited, having the appearanceof a nose permanently turned up.

I suppose it was all especially entrancing to Wendy, becausethose rampagious boys of hers gave her so much to do. Reallythere were whole weeks when, except perhaps with a stocking inthe evening, she was never above ground. The cooking, I can tellyou, kept her nose to the pot, and even if there was nothing in it,even if there was no pot, she had to keep watching that itcame aboil just the same. You never exactly knew whether there wouldbe a real meal or just a make-believe, it all depended upon Peter'swhim: he could eat, really eat, if it was part of a game, but hecould not stodge [cram down the food] just to feel stodgy [stuffedwith food], which is what most children like better than anything else;the next best thing being to talk about it. Make-believe was so realto him that during a meal of it you could see him getting rounder.Of course it was trying, but you simply had to follow his lead,and if you could prove to him that you were getting loose for yourtree he let you stodge.

Wendy's favourite time for sewing and darning was after theyhad all gone to bed. Then, as she expressed it, she had abreathing time for herself; and she occupied it in making newthings for them, and putting double pieces on the knees, for theywere all most frightfully hard on their knees.

When she sat down to a basketful of their stockings, every heelwith a hole in it, she would fling up her arms and exclaim, "Ohdear, I am sure I sometimes think spinsters are to be envied!"

Her face beamed when she exclaimed this.

You remember about her pet wolf. Well, it very soon discoveredthat she had come to the island and it found her out, and theyjust ran into each other's arms. After that it followed herabout everywhere.

As time wore on did she think much about the beloved parentsshe had left behind her? This is a difficult question, becauseit is quite impossible to say how time does wear on in theNeverland, where it is calculated by moons and suns, and thereare ever so many more of them than on the mainland. But I amafraid that Wendy did not really worry about her father andmother; she was absolutely confident that they would always keepthe window open for her to fly back by, and this gave hercomplete ease of mind. What did disturb her at times was thatJohn remembered his parents vaguely only, as people he had onceknown, while Michael was quite willing to believe that she wasreally his mother. These things scared her a little, and noblyanxious to do her duty, she tried to fix the old life in theirminds by setting them examination papers on it, as like aspossible to the ones she used to do at school. The other boysthought this awfully interesting, and insisted on joining, andthey made slates for themselves, and sat round the table, writingand thinking hard about the questions she had written on anotherslate and passed round. They were the most ordinary questions--"What was the colour of Mother's eyes? Which was taller, Fatheror Mother? Was Mother blonde or brunette? Answer all threequestions if possible." "(A) Write an essay of not less than 40words on How I spent my last Holidays, or The Characters ofFather and Mother compared. Only one of these to be attempted."Or "(1) Describe Mother's laugh; (2) Describe Father's laugh; (3)Describe Mother's Party Dress; (4) Describe the Kennel and itsInmate."

They were just everyday questions like these, and when youcould not answer them you were told to make a cross; and it wasreally dreadful what a number of crosses even John made. Of coursethe only boy who replied to every question was Slightly, and noone could have been more hopeful of coming out first, but hisanswers were perfectly ridiculous, and he really came out last:a melancholy thing.

Peter did not compete. For one thing he despised all mothersexcept Wendy, and for another he was the only boy on the islandwho could neither write nor spell; not the smallest word. He wasabove all that sort of thing.

By the way, the questions were all written in the past tense.What was the colour of Mother's eyes, and so on. Wendy, you see,had been forgetting, too.

Adventures, of course, as we shall see, were of dailyoccurrence; but about this time Peter invented, with Wendy'shelp, a new game that fascinated him enormously, until hesuddenly had no more interest in it, which, as you have beentold, was what always happened with his games. It consisted inpretending not to have adventures, in doing the sort of thingJohn and Michael had been doing all their lives, sitting onstools flinging balls in the air, pushing each other, going outfor walks and coming back without having killed so much as agrizzly. To see Peter doing nothing on a stool was a greatsight; he could not help looking solemn at such times, to sitstill seemed to him such a comic thing to do. He boasted that hehad gone walking for the good of his health. For several sunsthese were the most novel of all adventures to him; and John andMichael had to pretend to be delighted also; otherwise he wouldhave treated them severely.

He often went out alone, and when he came back you were neverabsolutely certain whether he had had an adventure or not. Hemight have forgotten it so completely that he said nothing aboutit; and then when you went out you found the body; and, on theother hand, he might say a great deal about it, and yet you couldnot find the body. Sometimes he came home with his headbandaged, and then Wendy cooed over him and bathed it in lukewarmwater, while he told a dazzling tale. But she was never quitesure, you know. There were, however, many adventures which sheknew to be true because she was in them herself, and there werestill more that were at least partly true, for the other boyswere in them and said they were wholly true. To describe themall would require a book as large as an English-Latin, Latin-English Dictionary, and the most we can do is to give one as aspecimen of an average hour on the island. The difficulty iswhich one to choose. Should we take the brush with the redskinsat Slightly Gulch? It was a sanguinary [cheerful] affair, andespecially interesting as showing one of Peter's peculiarities,which was that in the middle of a fight he would suddenly changesides. At the Gulch, when victory was still in the balance,sometimes leaning this way and sometimes that, he called out,"I'm redskin to-day; what are you, Tootles?" And Tootlesanswered, "Redskin; what are you, Nibs?" and Nibs said,"Redskin; what are you Twin?" and so on; and they were allredskins; and of course this would have ended the fight had notthe real redskins fascinated by Peter's methods, agreed to belost boys for that once, and so at it they all went again, morefiercely than ever.

The extraordinary upshot of this adventure was--but we havenot decided yet that this is the adventure we are to narrate.Perhaps a better one would be the night attack by the redskins onthe house under the ground, when several of them stuck in thehollow trees and had to be pulled out like corks. Or we mighttell how Peter saved Tiger Lily's life in the Mermaids' Lagoon,and so made her his ally.

Or we could tell of that cake the pirates cooked so that theboys might eat it and perish; and how they placed it in onecunning spot after another; but always Wendy snatched it from thehands of her children, so that in time it lost its succulence,and became as hard as a stone, and was used as a missile, and Hookfell over it in the dark.

Or suppose we tell of the birds that were Peter's friends,particularly of the Never bird that built in a tree overhangingthe lagoon, and how the nest fell into the water, and still thebird sat on her eggs, and Peter gave orders that she was not tobe disturbed. That is a pretty story, and the end shows howgrateful a bird can be; but if we tell it we must also tell thewhole adventure of the lagoon, which would of course be tellingtwo adventures rather than just one. A shorter adventure, andquite as exciting, was Tinker Bell's attempt, with the help ofsome street fairies, to have the sleeping Wendy conveyed on agreat floating leaf to the mainland. Fortunately the leaf gaveway and Wendy woke, thinking it was bath-time, and swam back. Oragain, we might choose Peter's defiance of the lions, when hedrew a circle round him on the ground with an arrow and daredthem to cross it; and though he waited for hours, with the otherboys and Wendy looking on breathlessly from trees, not one ofthem dared to accept his challenge.

Which of these adventures shall we choose? The best way willbe to toss for it.

I have tossed, and the lagoon has won. This almost makes onewish that the gulch or the cake or Tink's leaf had won. Ofcourse I could do it again, and make it best out of three;however, perhaps fairest to stick to the lagoon.

Chapter 8 - THE MERMAIDS' LAGOON

If you shut your eyes and are a lucky one, you may see at timesa shapeless pool of lovely pale colours suspended in thedarkness; then if you squeeze your eyes tighter, the pool beginsto take shape, and the colours become so vivid that with anothersqueeze they must go on fire. But just before they go on fireyou see the lagoon. This is the nearest you ever get to it onthe mainland, just one heavenly moment; if there could be twomoments you might see the surf and hear the mermaids singing.

The children often spent long summer days on this lagoon,swimming or floating most of the time, playing the mermaid gamesin the water, and so forth. You must not think from this thatthe mermaids were on friendly terms with them: on the contrary,it was among Wendy's lasting regrets that all the time she was onthe island she never had a civil word from one of them. When shestole softly to the edge of the lagoon she might see them by thescore, especially on Marooners' Rock, where they loved to bask,combing out their hair in a lazy way that quite irritated her; orshe might even swim, on tiptoe as it were, to within a yard ofthem, but then they saw her and dived, probably splashing herwith their tails, not by accident, but intentionally.

They treated all the boys in the same way, except of coursePeter, who chatted with them on Marooners' Rock by the hour, andsat on their tails when they got cheeky. He gave Wendy one oftheir combs.

The most haunting time at which to see them is at the turn ofthe moon, when they utter strange wailing cries; but the lagoonis dangerous for mortals then, and until the evening of which wehave now to tell, Wendy had never seen the lagoon by moonlight,less from fear, for of course Peter would have accompanied her,than because she had strict rules about every one being in bed byseven. She was often at the lagoon, however, on sunny days afterrain, when the mermaids come up in extraordinary numbers to playwith their bubbles. The bubbles of many colours made in rainbowwater they treat as balls, hitting them gaily from one to anotherwith their tails, and trying to keep them in the rainbow tillthey burst. The goals are at each end of the rainbow, and thekeepers only are allowed to use their hands. Sometimes a dozenof these games will be going on in the lagoon at a time, and itis quite a pretty sight.

But the moment the children tried to join in they had to playby themselves, for the mermaids immediately disappeared.Nevertheless we have proof that they secretly watched theinterlopers, and were not above taking an idea from them; forJohn introduced a new way of hitting the bubble, with the headinstead of the hand, and the mermaids adopted it. This is theone mark that John has left on the Neverland.

It must also have been rather pretty to see the childrenresting on a rock for half an hour after their mid-day meal.Wendy insisted on their doing this, and it had to be a real resteven though the meal was make-believe. So they lay there in thesun, and their bodies glistened in it, while she sat beside themand looked important.

It was one such day, and they were all on Marooners' Rock. Therock was not much larger than their great bed, but of course theyall knew how not to take up much room, and they were dozing, orat least lying with their eyes shut, and pinching occasionallywhen they thought Wendy was not looking. She was very busy,stitching.

While she stitched a change came to the lagoon. Little shiversran over it, and the sun went away and shadows stole across thewater, turning it cold. Wendy could no longer see to thread herneedle, and when she looked up, the lagoon that had alwayshitherto been such a laughing place seemed formidable andunfriendly.

It was not, she knew, that night had come, but something asdark as night had come. No, worse than that. It had not come,but it had sent that shiver through the sea to say that it wascoming. What was it?

There crowded upon her all the stories she had been told ofMarooners' Rock, so called because evil captains put sailors onit and leave them there to drown. They drown when the tiderises, for then it is submerged.

Of course she should have roused the children at once; notmerely because of the unknown that was stalking toward them, butbecause it was no longer good for them to sleep on a rock grownchilly. But she was a young mother and she did not know this;she thought you simply must stick to your rule about half an hourafter the mid-day meal. So, though fear was upon her, and shelonged to hear male voices, she would not waken them. Even whenshe heard the sound of muffled oars, though her heart was in hermouth, she did not waken them. She stood over them to let themhave their sleep out. Was it not brave of Wendy?

It was well for those boys then that there was one among themwho could sniff danger even in his sleep. Peter sprang erect, aswide awake at once as a dog, and with one warning cry he rousedthe others.

He stood motionless, one hand to his ear.

"Pirates!" he cried. The others came closer to him. A strangesmile was playing about his face, and Wendy saw it and shuddered.While that smile was on his face no one dared address him; allthey could do was to stand ready to obey. The order came sharpand incisive.

"Dive!"

There was a gleam of legs, and instantly the lagoon seemeddeserted. Marooners' Rock stood alone in the forbidding watersas if it were itself marooned.

The boat drew nearer. It was the pirate dinghy, with threefigures in her, Smee and Starkey, and the third a captive, noother than Tiger Lily. Her hands and ankles were tied, and sheknew what was to be her fate. She was to be left on the rock toperish, an end to one of her race more terrible than death byfire or torture, for is it not written in the book of the tribethat there is no path through water to the happy hunting-ground?Yet her face was impassive; she was the daughter of a chief, shemust die as a chief's daughter, it is enough.

They had caught her boarding the pirate ship with a knife inher mouth. No watch was kept on the ship, it being Hook's boastthat the wind of his name guarded the ship for a mile around.Now her fate would help to guard it also. One more wail would gothe round in that wind by night.

In the gloom that they brought with them the two pirates didnot see the rock till they crashed into it.

"Luff, you lubber," cried an Irish voice that was Smee's;"here's the rock. Now, then, what we have to do is to hoist theredskin on to it and leave her here to drown."

It was the work of one brutal moment to land the beautiful girlon the rock; she was too proud to offer a vain resistance.

Quite near the rock, but out of sight, two heads were bobbingup and down, Peter's and Wendy's. Wendy was crying, for it wasthe first tragedy she had seen. Peter had seen many tragedies,but he had forgotten them all. He was less sorry than Wendy forTiger Lily: it was two against one that angered him, and hemeant to save her. An easy way would have been to wait until thepirates had gone, but he was never one to choose the easy way.

There was almost nothing he could not do, and he now imitatedthe voice of Hook.

"Ahoy there, you lubbers!" he called. It was a marvellousimitation.

"The captain!" said the pirates, staring at each other insurprise.

"He must be swimming out to us," Starkey said, when they hadlooked for him in vain.

"We are putting the redskin on the rock," Smee called out.

"Set her free," came the astonishing answer.

"Free!"

"Yes, cut her bonds and let her go."

"But, captain--"

"At once, d'ye hear," cried Peter, "or I'll plunge my hook inyou."

"This is queer!" Smee gasped.

"Better do what the captain orders," said Starkey nervously.

"Ay, ay." Smee said, and he cut Tiger Lily's cords. At oncelike an eel she slid between Starkey's legs into the water.

Of course Wendy was very elated over Peter's cleverness; butshe knew that he would be elated also and very likely crow andthus betray himself, so at once her hand went out to cover hismouth. But it was stayed even in the act, for "Boat ahoy!" rangover the lagoon in Hook's voice, and this time it was not Peterwho had spoken.

Peter may have been about to crow, but his face puckered in awhistle of surprise instead.

"Boat ahoy!" again came the voice.

Now Wendy understood. The real Hook was also in the water.

He was swimming to the boat, and as his men showed a light toguide him he had soon reached them. In the light of the lanternWendy saw his hook grip the boat's side; she saw his evil swarthyface as he rose dripping from the water, and, quaking, she wouldhave liked to swim away, but Peter would not budge. He wastingling with life and also top-heavy with conceit. "Am I not awonder, oh, I am a wonder!" he whispered to her, and though shethought so also, she was really glad for the sake of hisreputation that no one heard him except herself.

He signed to her to listen.

The two pirates were very curious to know what had broughttheir captain to them, but he sat with his head on his hook in aposition of profound melancholy.

"Captain, is all well?" they asked timidly, but he answeredwith a hollow moan.

"He sighs," said Smee.

"He sighs again," said Starkey.

"And yet a third time he sighs," said Smee.

Then at last he spoke passionately.

"The game's up," he cried, "those boys have found a mother."

Affrighted though she was, Wendy swelled with pride.

"O evil day!" cried Starkey.

"What's a mother?" asked the ignorant Smee.

Wendy was so shocked that she exclaimed. "He doesn't know!"and always after this she felt that if you could have a petpirate Smee would be her one.

Peter pulled her beneath the water, for Hook had started up,crying, "What was that?"

"I heard nothing," said Starkey, raising the lantern over thewaters, and as the pirates looked they saw a strange sight. Itwas the nest I have told you of, floating on the lagoon, and theNever bird was sitting on it.

"See," said Hook in answer to Smee's question, "that is amother. What a lesson! The nest must have fallen into thewater, but would the mother desert her eggs? No."

There was a break in his voice, as if for a moment he recalledinnocent days when--but he brushed away this weakness with hishook.

Smee, much impressed, gazed at the bird as the nest was bornepast, but the more suspicious Starkey said, "If she is a mother,perhaps she is hanging about here to help Peter."

Hook winced. "Ay," he said, "that is the fear that haunts me."

He was roused from this dejection by Smee's eager voice.

"Captain," said Smee, "could we not kidnap these boys' motherand make her our mother?"

"It is a princely scheme," cried Hook, and at once it tookpractical shape in his great brain. "We will seize the childrenand carry them to the boat: the boys we will make walk theplank, and Wendy shall be our mother."

Again Wendy forgot herself.

"Never!" she cried, and bobbed.

"What was that?"

But they could see nothing. They thought it must have been aleaf in the wind. "Do you agree, my bullies?" asked Hook.

"There is my hand on it," they both said.

"And there is my hook. Swear."

They all swore. By this time they were on the rock, andsuddenly Hook remembered Tiger Lily.

"Where is the redskin?" he demanded abruptly.

He had a playful humour at moments, and they thought this wasone of the moments.

"Brimstone and gall," thundered Hook, "what cozening [cheating]is going on here!" His face had gone black with rage, but he sawthat they believed their words, and he was startled. "Lads," hesaid, shaking a little, "I gave no such order."

"It is passing queer," Smee said, and they all fidgeteduncomfortably. Hook raised his voice, but there was a quiver init.

Hook tried a more ingratiating manner. "If you are Hook," hesaid almost humbly, "come tell me, who am I?"

"A codfish," replied the voice, "only a codfish."

"A codfish!" Hook echoed blankly, and it was then, but not tillthen, that his proud spirit broke. He saw his men draw back fromhim.

"Have we been captained all this time by a codfish!" theymuttered. "It is lowering to our pride."

They were his dogs snapping at him, but, tragic figure thoughhe had become, he scarcely heeded them. Against such fearfulevidence it was not their belief in him that he needed, it washis own. He felt his ego slipping from him. "Don't desert me,bully," he whispered hoarsely to it.

In his dark nature there was a touch of the feminine, as in allthe great pirates, and it sometimes gave him intuitions.Suddenly he tried the guessing game.

"Hook," he called, "have you another voice?"

Now Peter could never resist a game, and he answered blithelyin his own voice, "I have."

"And another name?"

"Ay, ay."

"Vegetable?" asked Hook.

"No."

"Mineral?"

"No."

"Animal?"

"Yes."

"Man?"

"No!" This answer rang out scornfully.

"Boy?"

"Yes."

"Ordinary boy?"

"No!"

"Wonderful boy?"

To Wendy's pain the answer that rang out this time was "Yes."

"Are you in England?"

"No."

"Are you here?"

"Yes."

Hook was completely puzzled. "You ask him some questions," hesaid to the others, wiping his damp brow.

Smee reflected. "I can't think of a thing," he saidregretfully.

"Can't guess, can't guess!" crowed Peter. "Do you give it up?"

Of course in his pride he was carrying the game too far, andthe miscreants [villains] saw their chance.

"Yes, yes," they answered eagerly.

"Well, then," he cried, "I am Peter Pan."

Pan!

In a moment Hook was himself again, and Smee and Starkey werehis faithful henchmen.

"Now we have him," Hook shouted. "Into the water, Smee.Starkey, mind the boat. Take him dead or alive!"

He leaped as he spoke, and simultaneously came the gay voice ofPeter.

"Are you ready, boys?"

"Ay, ay," from various parts of the lagoon.

"Then lam into the pirates."

The fight was short and sharp. First to draw blood was John,who gallantly climbed into the boat and held Starkey. There wasfierce struggle, in which the cutlass was torn from the pirate'sgrasp. He wriggled overboard and John leapt after him. Thedinghy drifted away.

Here and there a head bobbed up in the water, and there was aflash of steel followed by a cry or a whoop. In the confusionsome struck at their own side. The corkscrew of Smee got Tootlesin the fourth rib, but he was himself pinked [nicked] in turn byCurly. Farther from the rock Starkey was pressing Slightly andthe twins hard.

Where all this time was Peter? He was seeking bigger game.

The others were all brave boys, and they must not be blamed forbacking from the pirate captain. His iron claw made a circle ofdead water round him, from which they fled like affrightedfishes.

But there was one who did not fear him: there was one preparedto enter that circle.

Strangely, it was not in the water that they met. Hook rose tothe rock to breathe, and at the same moment Peter scaled it onthe opposite side. The rock was slippery as a ball, and they hadto crawl rather than climb. Neither knew that the other wascoming. Each feeling for a grip met the other's arm: insurprise they raised their heads; their faces were almosttouching; so they met.

Some of the greatest heroes have confessed that just beforethey fell to [began combat] they had a sinking [feeling in thestomach]. Had it been so with Peter at that moment I would admitit. After all, he was the only man that the Sea-Cook hadfeared. But Peter had no sinking, he had one feeling only,gladness; and he gnashed his pretty teeth with joy. Quickas thought he snatched a knife from Hook's belt and was about todrive it home, when he saw that he was higher up the rock thathis foe. It would not have been fighting fair. He gave thepirate a hand to help him up.

It was then that Hook bit him.

Not the pain of this but its unfairness was what dazed Peter.It made him quite helpless. He could only stare, horrified.Every child is affected thus the first time he is treatedunfairly. All he thinks he has a right to when he comes to youto be yours is fairness. After you have been unfair to him hewill love you again, but will never afterwards be quite the sameboy. No one ever gets over the first unfairness; no one exceptPeter. He often met it, but he always forgot it. I suppose thatwas the real difference between him and all the rest.

So when he met it now it was like the first time; and he couldjust stare, helpless. Twice the iron hand clawed him.

A few moments afterwards the other boys saw Hook in the waterstriking wildly for the ship; no elation on the pestilent facenow, only white fear, for the crocodile was in dogged pursuit ofhim. On ordinary occasions the boys would have swum alongsidecheering; but now they were uneasy, for they had lost both Peterand Wendy, and were scouring the lagoon for them, calling them byname. They found the dinghy and went home in it, shouting"Peter, Wendy" as they went, but no answer came save mockinglaughter from the mermaids. "They must be swimming back orflying," the boys concluded. They were not very anxious, becausethey had such faith in Peter. They chuckled, boylike, because theywould be late for bed; and it was all mother Wendy's fault!

When their voices died away there came cold silence over thelagoon, and then a feeble cry.

"Help, help!"

Two small figures were beating against the rock; the girl hadfainted and lay on the boy's arm. With a last effort Peterpulled her up the rock and then lay down beside her. Even as healso fainted he saw that the water was rising. He knew that theywould soon be drowned, but he could do no more.

As they lay side by side a mermaid caught Wendy by the feet,and began pulling her softly into the water. Peter, feeling herslip from him, woke with a start, and was just in time to drawher back. But he had to tell her the truth.

"We are on the rock, Wendy," he said, "but it is growingsmaller. Soon the water will be over it."

She did not understand even now.

"We must go," she said, almost brightly.

"Yes," he answered faintly.

"Shall we swim or fly, Peter?"

He had to tell her.

"Do you think you could swim or fly as far as the island,Wendy, without my help?"

They put their hands over their eyes to shut out the sight.They thought they would soon be no more. As they sat thussomething brushed against Peter as light as a kiss, and stayedthere, as if saying timidly, "Can I be of any use?"

It was the tail of a kite, which Michael had made some daysbefore. It had torn itself out of his hand and floated away.

"Michael's kite," Peter said without interest, but next momenthe had seized the tail, and was pulling the kite toward him.

"It lifted Michael off the ground," he cried; "why should itnot carry you?"

"Both of us!"

"It can't lift two; Michael and Curly tried."

"Let us draw lots," Wendy said bravely.

"And you a lady; never." Already he had tied the tail round her.She clung to him; she refused to go without him; but with a"Good-bye, Wendy," he pushed her from the rock; and in a few minutesshe was borne out of his sight. Peter was alone on the lagoon.

The rock was very small now; soon it would be submerged. Palerays of light tiptoed across the waters; and by and by there wasto be heard a sound at once the most musical and the mostmelancholy in the world: the mermaids calling to the moon.

Peter was not quite like other boys; but he was afraid at last.A tremour ran through him, like a shudder passing over the sea;but on the sea one shudder follows another till there arehundreds of them, and Peter felt just the one. Next moment hewas standing erect on the rock again, with that smile on his faceand a drum beating within him. It was saying, "To die will be anawfully big adventure."

Chapter 9 - THE NEVER BIRD

The last sound Peter heard before he was quite alone were themermaids retiring one by one to their bedchambers under the sea.He was too far away to hear their doors shut; but every door inthe coral caves where they live rings a tiny bell when it opensor closes (as in all the nicest houses on the mainland), and heheard the bells.

Steadily the waters rose till they were nibbling at his feet;and to pass the time until they made their final gulp, he watchedthe only thing on the lagoon. He thought it was a piece offloating paper, perhaps part of the kite, and wondered idly howlong it would take to drift ashore.

Presently he noticed as an odd thing that it was undoubtedlyout upon the lagoon with some definite purpose, for it wasfighting the tide, and sometimes winning; and when it won, Peter,always sympathetic to the weaker side, could not help clapping;it was such a gallant piece of paper.

It was not really a piece of paper; it was the Never bird,making desperate efforts to reach Peter on the nest. By workingher wings, in a way she had learned since the nest fell into thewater, she was able to some extent to guide her strange craft,but by the time Peter recognised her she was very exhausted. Shehad come to save him, to give him her nest, though there wereeggs in it. I rather wonder at the bird, for though he had beennice to her, he had also sometimes tormented her. I can supposeonly that, like Mrs. Darling and the rest of them, she was meltedbecause he had all his first teeth.

She called out to him what she had come for, and he called outto her what she was doing there; but of course neither of themunderstood the other's language. In fanciful stories people cantalk to the birds freely, and I wish for the moment I couldpretend that this were such a story, and say that Peter repliedintelligently to the Never bird; but truth is best, and I want totell you only what really happened. Well, not only could theynot understand each other, but they forgot their manners.

Peter felt that she was calling him names, and at a venture heretorted hotly:

"So are you!"

Then rather curiously they both snapped out the same remark:

"Shut up!"

"Shut up!"

Nevertheless the bird was determined to save him if she could,and by one last mighty effort she propelled the nest against therock. Then up she flew; deserting her eggs, so as to make hermeaning clear.

Then at last he understood, and clutched the nest and wavedhis thanks to the bird as she fluttered overhead. It was not toreceive his thanks, however, that she hung there in the sky; itwas not even to watch him get into the nest; it was to see whathe did with her eggs.

There were two large white eggs, and Peter lifted them up andreflected. The bird covered her face with her wings, so as notto see the last of them; but she could not help peeping betweenthe feathers.

I forget whether I have told you that there was a stave on therock, driven into it by some buccaneers of long ago to mark thesite of buried treasure. The children had discovered theglittering hoard, and when in a mischievous mood used to flingshowers of moidores, diamonds, pearls and pieces of eight to thegulls, who pounced upon them for food, and then flew away, ragingat the scurvy trick that had been played upon them. The stavewas still there, and on it Starkey had hung his hat, a deeptarpaulin, watertight, with a broad brim. Peter put the eggsinto this hat and set it on the lagoon. It floated beautifully.

The Never bird saw at once what he was up to, and screamed heradmiration of him; and, alas, Peter crowed his agreement withher. Then he got into the nest, reared the stave in it as amast, and hung up his shirt for a sail. At the same moment thebird fluttered down upon the hat and once more sat snugly on hereggs. She drifted in one direction, and he was borne off inanother, both cheering.

Of course when Peter landed he beached his barque [small ship,actually the Never Bird's nest in this particular case in point]in a place where the bird would easily find it; but the hat wassuch a great success that she abandoned the nest. It drifted abouttill it went to pieces, and often Starkey came to the shore of thelagoon, and with many bitter feelings watched the bird sittingon his hat. As we shall not see her again, it may be worthmentioning here that all Never birds now build in that shape ofnest, with a broad brim on which the youngsters take an airing.

Great were the rejoicings when Peter reached the home under theground almost as soon as Wendy, who had been carried hither andthither by the kite. Every boy had adventures to tell; butperhaps the biggest adventure of all was that they were severalhours late for bed. This so inflated them that they did variousdodgy things to get staying up still longer, such as demandingbandages; but Wendy, though glorying in having them all homeagain safe and sound, was scandalised by the lateness of thehour, and cried, "To bed, to bed," in a voice that had to beobeyed. Next day, however, she was awfully tender, and gave outbandages to every one, and they played till bed-time at limpingabout and carrying their arms in slings.

Chapter 10 - THE HAPPY HOME

One important result of the brush [with the pirates] on thelagoon was that it made the redskins their friends. Peter hadsaved Tiger Lily from a dreadful fate, and now there was nothingshe and her braves would not do for him. All night they satabove, keeping watch over the home under the ground and awaitingthe big attack by the pirates which obviously could not be muchlonger delayed. Even by day they hung about, smoking the pipe ofpeace, and looking almost as if they wanted tit-bits to eat.

They called Peter the Great White Father, prostratingthemselves [lying down] before him; and he liked thistremendously, so that it was not really good for him.

"The great white father," he would say to them in a very lordlymanner, as they grovelled at his feet, "is glad to see thePiccaninny warriors protecting his wigwam from the pirates."

She was far too pretty to cringe in this way, but Peter thoughtit his due, and he would answer condescendingly, "It is good.Peter Pan has spoken."

Always when he said, "Peter Pan has spoken," it meant that theymust now shut up, and they accepted it humbly in that spirit; butthey were by no means so respectful to the other boys, whom theylooked upon as just ordinary braves. They said "How-do?" tothem, and things like that; and what annoyed the boys was thatPeter seemed to think this all right.

Secretly Wendy sympathised with them a little, but she was fartoo loyal a housewife to listen to any complaints against father."Father knows best," she always said, whatever her privateopinion must be. Her private opinion was that the redskinsshould not call her a squaw.

We have now reached the evening that was to be known among themas the Night of Nights, because of its adventures and theirupshot. The day, as if quietly gathering its forces, had beenalmost uneventful, and now the redskins in their blankets were attheir posts above, while, below, the children were having theirevening meal; all except Peter, who had gone out to get the time.The way you got the time on the island was to find the crocodile,and then stay near him till the clock struck.

The meal happened to be a make-believe tea, and they sat aroundthe board, guzzling in their greed; and really, what with theirchatter and recriminations, the noise, as Wendy said, waspositively deafening. To be sure, she did not mind noise, butshe simply would not have them grabbing things, and then excusingthemselves by saying that Tootles had pushed their elbow. Therewas a fixed rule that they must never hit back at meals, butshould refer the matter of dispute to Wendy by raising the rightarm politely and saying, "I complain of so-and-so;" but whatusually happened was that they forgot to do this or did it toomuch.

"Silence," cried Wendy when for the twentieth time she had toldthem that they were not all to speak at once. "Is your mug empty,Slightly darling?"

She told them to clear away, and sat down to her work-basket,a heavy load of stockings and every knee with a hole in it asusual.

"Wendy," remonstrated [scolded] Michael, "I'm too big for acradle."

"I must have somebody in a cradle," she said almost tartly,"and you are the littlest. A cradle is such a nice homely thingto have about a house."

While she sewed they played around her; such a group of happyfaces and dancing limbs lit up by that romantic fire. It hadbecome a very familiar scene, this, in the home under theground, but we are looking on it for the last time.

There was a step above, and Wendy, you may be sure, was thefirst to recognize it.

"Children, I hear your father's step. He likes you to meet himat the door."

Above, the redskins crouched before Peter.

"Watch well, braves. I have spoken."

And then, as so often before, the gay children dragged him fromhis tree. As so often before, but never again.

He had brought nuts for the boys as well as the correct timefor Wendy.

"Peter, you just spoil them, you know," Wendy simpered[exaggerated a smile].

"Ah, old lady," said Peter, hanging up his gun.

"It was me told him mothers are called old lady," Michaelwhispered to Curly.

"I complain of Michael," said Curly instantly.

The first twin came to Peter. "Father, we want to dance."

"Dance away, my little man," said Peter, who was in high goodhumour.

"But we want you to dance."

Peter was really the best dancer among them, but he pretendedto be scandalised.

"Me! My old bones would rattle!"

"And mummy too."

"What," cried Wendy, "the mother of such an armful, dance!"

"But on a Saturday night," Slightly insinuated.

It was not really Saturday night, at least it may have been,for they had long lost count of the days; but always if theywanted to do anything special they said this was Saturday night,and then they did it.

"Of course it is Saturday night, Peter," Wendy said, relenting.

"People of our figure, Wendy!"

"But it is only among our own progeny [children]."

"True, true."

So they were told they could dance, but they must put on theirnighties first.

"Ah, old lady," Peter said aside to Wendy, warming himself bythe fire and looking down at her as she sat turning a heel,"there is nothing more pleasant of an evening for you and me whenthe day's toil is over than to rest by the fire with the littleones near by."

Here Tink, who was in her bedroom, eavesdropping, squeaked outsomething impudent.

"She says she glories in being abandoned," Peter interpreted.

He had a sudden idea. "Perhaps Tink wants to be my mother?"

"You silly ass!" cried Tinker Bell in a passion.

She had said it so often that Wendy needed no translation.

"I almost agree with her," Wendy snapped. Fancy Wendysnapping! But she had been much tried, and she little knew whatwas to happen before the night was out. If she had known shewould not have snapped.

None of them knew. Perhaps it was best not to know. Theirignorance gave them one more glad hour; and as it was to betheir last hour on the island, let us rejoice that there weresixty glad minutes in it. They sang and danced in their night-gowns. Such a deliciously creepy song it was, in which theypretended to be frightened at their own shadows, little wittingthat so soon shadows would close in upon them, from whom theywould shrink in real fear. So uproariously gay was the dance,and how they buffeted each other on the bed and out of it! Itwas a pillow fight rather than a dance, and when it was finished,the pillows insisted on one bout more, like partners who knowthat they may never meet again. The stories they told, before itwas time for Wendy's good-night story! Even Slightly tried totell a story that night, but the beginning was so fearfully dullthat it appalled not only the others but himself, and he said happily:

"Yes, it is a dull beginning. I say, let us pretend that it isthe end."

And then at last they all got into bed for Wendy's story, thestory they loved best, the story Peter hated. Usually when shebegan to tell this story he left the room or put his hands overhis ears; and possibly if he had done either of those things thistime they might all still be on the island. But to-night heremained on his stool; and we shall see what happened.

Chapter 11 - WENDY'S STORY

"Listen, then," said Wendy, settling down to her story, withMichael at her feet and seven boys in the bed. "There was once agentleman--"

"I just thought they did," Curly broke in excitedly. "I don'tknow how it is, but I just thought they did!"

"O Wendy," cried Tootles, "was one of the lost children calledTootles?"

"Yes, he was."

"I am in a story. Hurrah, I am in a story, Nibs."

"Hush. Now I want you to consider the feelings of the unhappyparents with all their children flown away."

"Oo!" they all moaned, though they were not really consideringthe feelings of the unhappy parents one jot.

"Think of the empty beds!"

"Oo!"

"It's awfully sad," the first twin said cheerfully.

"I don't see how it can have a happy ending," said the secondtwin. "Do you, Nibs?"

"I'm frightfully anxious."

"If you knew how great is a mother's love," Wendy told themtriumphantly, "you would have no fear." She had now come to thepart that Peter hated.

"I do like a mother's love," said Tootles, hitting Nibs with apillow. "Do you like a mother's love, Nibs?"

"I do just," said Nibs, hitting back.

"You see," Wendy said complacently, "our heroine knew that themother would always leave the window open for her children to flyback by; so they stayed away for years and had a lovely time."

"Did they ever go back?"

"Let us now," said Wendy, bracing herself up for her finesteffort, "take a peep into the future"; and they all gavethemselves the twist that makes peeps into the future easier."Years have rolled by, and who is this elegant lady of uncertainage alighting at London Station?"

"O Wendy, who is she?" cried Nibs, every bit as excited as ifhe didn't know.

"Can it be--yes--no--it is--the fair Wendy!"

"Oh!"

"And who are the two noble portly figures accompanying her, nowgrown to man's estate? Can they be John and Michael? They are!"

"Oh!"

"`See, dear brothers,' says Wendy pointing upwards, `there isthe window still standing open. Ah, now we are rewarded for oursublime faith in a mother's love.' So up they flew to theirmummy and daddy, and pen cannot describe the happy scene, overwhich we draw a veil."

That was the story, and they were as pleased with it as thefair narrator herself. Everything just as it should be, you see.Off we skip like the most heartless things in the world, which iswhat children are, but so attractive; and we have an entirelyselfish time, and then when we have need of special attention wenobly return for it, confident that we shall be rewarded insteadof smacked.

So great indeed was their faith in a mother's love that theyfelt they could afford to be callous for a bit longer.

But there was one there who knew better, and when Wendyfinished he uttered a hollow groan.

"What is it, Peter?" she cried, running to him, thinking he wasill. She felt him solicitously, lower down than his chest."Where is it, Peter?"

"It isn't that kind of pain," Peter replied darkly.

"Then what kind is it?"

"Wendy, you are wrong about mothers."

They all gathered round him in affright, so alarming was hisagitation; and with a fine candour he told them what he hadhitherto concealed.

"Long ago," he said, "I thought like you that my mother wouldalways keep the window open for me, so I stayed away for moonsand moons and moons, and then flew back; but the window wasbarred, for mother had forgotten all about me, and there wasanother little boy sleeping in my bed."

I am not sure that this was true, but Peter thought it wastrue; and it scared them.

"Are you sure mothers are like that?"

"Yes."

So this was the truth about mothers. The toads!

Still it is best to be careful; and no one knows so quickly asa child when he should give in. "Wendy, let us [let's] go home,"cried John and Michael together.

"Yes," she said, clutching them.

"Not to-night?" asked the lost boys bewildered. They knew inwhat they called their hearts that one can get on quite wellwithout a mother, and that it is only the mothers who think youcan't.

"At once," Wendy replied resolutely, for the horrible thoughthad come to her: "Perhaps mother is in half mourning by thistime."

This dread made her forgetful of what must be Peter's feelings,and she said to him rather sharply, "Peter, will you make thenecessary arrangements?"

"If you wish it," he replied, as coolly as if she had asked himto pass the nuts.

Not so much as a sorry-to-lose-you between them! If she didnot mind the parting, he was going to show her, was Peter, thatneither did he.

But of course he cared very much; and he was so full of wrathagainst grown-ups, who, as usual, were spoiling everything, thatas soon as he got inside his tree he breathed intentionally quickshort breaths at the rate of about five to a second. He did thisbecause there is a saying in the Neverland that, every time youbreathe, a grown-up dies; and Peter was killing them offvindictively as fast as possible.

Then having given the necessary instructions to the redskins hereturned to the home, where an unworthy scene had been enacted inhis absence. Panic-stricken at the thought of losing Wendy thelost boys had advanced upon her threateningly.

"It will be worse than before she came," they cried.

"We shan't let her go."

"Let's keep her prisoner."

"Ay, chain her up."

In her extremity an instinct told her to which of them to turn.

"Tootles," she cried, "I appeal to you."

Was it not strange? She appealed to Tootles, quite thesilliest one.

Grandly, however, did Tootles respond. For that one moment hedropped his silliness and spoke with dignity.

"I am just Tootles," he said, "and nobody minds me. But thefirst who does not behave to Wendy like an English gentleman Iwill blood him severely."

He drew back his hanger; and for that instant his sun was atnoon. The others held back uneasily. Then Peter returned, andthey saw at once that they would get no support from him. Hewould keep no girl in the Neverland against her will.

"Wendy," he said, striding up and down, "I have asked theredskins to guide you through the wood, as flying tires you so."

"Thank you, Peter."

"Then," he continued, in the short sharp voice of oneaccustomed to be obeyed, "Tinker Bell will take you across thesea. Wake her, Nibs."

Nibs had to knock twice before he got an answer, though Tinkhad really been sitting up in bed listening for some time.

"Who are you? How dare you? Go away," she cried.

"You are to get up, Tink," Nibs called, "and take Wendy on ajourney."

Of course Tink had been delighted to hear that Wendy was going;but she was jolly well determined not to be her courier, and shesaid so in still more offensive language. Then she pretended tobe asleep again.

"Tink," he rapped out, "if you don't get up and dress at once Iwill open the curtains, and then we shall all see you in yournegligee [nightgown]."

This made her leap to the floor. "Who said I wasn't gettingup?" she cried.

In the meantime the boys were gazing very forlornly at Wendy,now equipped with John and Michael for the journey. By this timethey were dejected, not merely because they were about to loseher, but also because they felt that she was going off tosomething nice to which they had not been invited. Novelty wasbeckoning to them as usual.

Crediting them with a nobler feeling Wendy melted.

"Dear ones," she said, "if you will all come with me I feelalmost sure I can get my father and mother to adopt you."

The invitation was meant specially for Peter, but each of theboys was thinking exclusively of himself, and at once they jumpedwith joy.

"But won't they think us rather a handful?" Nibs asked in themiddle of his jump.

"Oh no," said Wendy, rapidly thinking it out, "it will onlymean having a few beds in the drawing-room; they can be hiddenbehind the screens on first Thursdays."

"Peter, can we go?" they all cried imploringly. They took itfor granted that if they went he would go also, but really theyscarcely cared. Thus children are ever ready, when noveltyknocks, to desert their dearest ones.

"All right," Peter replied with a bitter smile, and immediatelythey rushed to get their things.

"And now, Peter," Wendy said, thinking she had put everythingright, "I am going to give you your medicine before you go." Sheloved to give them medicine, and undoubtedly gave them too much.Of course it was only water, but it was out of a bottle, andshe always shook the bottle and counted the drops, which gaveit a certain medicinal quality. On this occasion, however, shedid not give Peter his draught [portion], for just as she hadprepared it, she saw a look on his face that made her heart sink.

To show that her departure would leave him unmoved, he skippedup and down the room, playing gaily on his heartless pipes. Shehad to run about after him, though it was rather undignified.

"To find your mother," she coaxed.

Now, if Peter had ever quite had a mother, he no longer missedher. He could do very well without one. He had thought themout, and remembered only their bad points.

"No, no," he told Wendy decisively; "perhaps she would say Iwas old, and I just want always to be a little boy and to havefun."

"But, Peter--"

"No."

And so the others had to be told.

"Peter isn't coming."

Peter not coming! They gazed blankly at him, their sticks overtheir backs, and on each stick a bundle. Their first thought wasthat if Peter was not going he had probably changed his mindabout letting them go.

But he was far too proud for that. "If you find your mothers,"he said darkly, "I hope you will like them."

The awful cynicism of this made an uncomfortable impression,and most of them began to look rather doubtful. After all, theirfaces said, were they not noodles to want to go?

"Now then," cried Peter, "no fuss, no blubbering; good-bye,Wendy"; and he held out his hand cheerily, quite as if they mustreally go now, for he had something important to do.

She had to take his hand, and there was no indication that hewould prefer a thimble.

"You will remember about changing your flannels, Peter?" shesaid, lingering over him. She was always so particular abouttheir flannels.

"Yes."

"And you will take your medicine?"

"Yes."

That seemed to be everything, and an awkward pause followed.Peter, however, was not the kind that breaks down before otherpeople. "Are you ready, Tinker Bell?" he called out.

"Ay, ay."

"Then lead the way."

Tink darted up the nearest tree; but no one followedher, for it was at this moment that the pirates made theirdreadful attack upon the redskins. Above, where all had been sostill, the air was rent with shrieks and the clash of steel.Below, there was dead silence. Mouths opened and remained open.Wendy fell on her knees, but her arms were extended toward Peter.All arms were extended to him, as if suddenly blown in hisdirection; they were beseeching him mutely not to desert them.As for Peter, he seized his sword, the same he thought he hadslain Barbecue with, and the lust of battle was in his eye.

Chapter 12 - THE CHILDREN ARE CARRIED OFF

The pirate attack had been a complete surprise: a sure proofthat the unscrupulous Hook had conducted it improperly, for tosurprise redskins fairly is beyond the wit of the white man.

By all the unwritten laws of savage warfare it is always theredskin who attacks, and with the wiliness of his race he does itjust before the dawn, at which time he knows the courage of thewhites to be at its lowest ebb. The white men have in themeantime made a rude stockade on the summit of yonder undulatingground, at the foot of which a stream runs, for it is destructionto be too far from water. There they await the onslaught, theinexperienced ones clutching their revolvers and treading ontwigs, but the old hands sleeping tranquilly until just beforethe dawn. Through the long black night the savage scoutswriggle, snake-like, among the grass without stirring a blade.The brushwood closes behind them, as silently as sand into whicha mole has dived. Not a sound is to be heard, save when theygive vent to a wonderful imitation of the lonely call of thecoyote. The cry is answered by other braves; and some of them doit even better than the coyotes, who are not very good at it.So the chill hours wear on, and the long suspense is horriblytrying to the paleface who has to live through it for the firsttime; but to the trained hand those ghastly calls and stillghastlier silences are but an intimation of how the night ismarching.

That this was the usual procedure was so well known to Hookthat in disregarding it he cannot be excused on the plea ofignorance.

The Piccaninnies, on their part, trusted implicitly to hishonour, and their whole action of the night stands out in markedcontrast to his. They left nothing undone that was consistentwith the reputation of their tribe. With that alertness of thesenses which is at once the marvel and despair of civilisedpeoples, they knew that the pirates were on the island from themoment one of them trod on a dry stick; and in an incrediblyshort space of time the coyote cries began. Every foot of groundbetween the spot where Hook had landed his forces and the homeunder the trees was stealthily examined by braves wearing theirmocassins with the heels in front. They found only one hillockwith a stream at its base, so that Hook had no choice; here hemust establish himself and wait for just before the dawn.Everything being thus mapped out with almost diabolical cunning,the main body of the redskins folded their blankets around them,and in the phlegmatic manner that is to them, the pearl of manhoodsquatted above the children's home, awaiting the cold moment whenthey should deal pale death.

Here dreaming, though wide-awake, of the exquisite tortures towhich they were to put him at break of day, those confidingsavages were found by the treacherous Hook. From the accountsafterwards supplied by such of the scouts as escaped thecarnage, he does not seem even to have paused at the risingground, though it is certain that in that grey light he must haveseen it: no thought of waiting to be attacked appears from firstto last to have visited his subtle mind; he would not even holdoff till the night was nearly spent; on he pounded with no policybut to fall to [get into combat]. What could the bewilderedscouts do, masters as they were of every war-like artifice savethis one, but trot helplessly after him, exposing themselvesfatally to view, while they gave pathetic utterance to thecoyote cry.

Around the brave Tiger Lily were a dozen of her stoutestwarriors, and they suddenly saw the perfidious pirates bearingdown upon them. Fell from their eyes then the film through whichthey had looked at victory. No more would they torture at thestake. For them the happy hunting-grounds was now. They knew it;but as their father's sons they acquitted themselves. Even thenthey had time to gather in a phalanx [dense formation] that wouldhave been hard to break had they risen quickly, but this theywere forbidden to do by the traditions of their race. It iswritten that the noble savage must never express surprise in thepresence of the white. Thus terrible as the sudden appearance ofthe pirates must have been to them, they remained stationary fora moment, not a muscle moving; as if the foe had come byinvitation. Then, indeed, the tradition gallantly upheld, theyseized their weapons, and the air was torn with the war-cry; butit was now too late.

It is no part of ours to describe what was a massacre ratherthan a fight. Thus perished many of the flower of thePiccaninny tribe. Not all unavenged did they die, for with LeanWolf fell Alf Mason, to disturb the Spanish Main no more, andamong others who bit the dust were Geo. Scourie, Chas. Turley,and the Alsatian Foggerty. Turley fell to the tomahawk of theterrible Panther, who ultimately cut a way through the pirateswith Tiger Lily and a small remnant of the tribe.

To what extent Hook is to blame for his tactics on thisoccasion is for the historian to decide. Had he waited on therising ground till the proper hour he and his men would probablyhave been butchered; and in judging him it is only fair to takethis into account. What he should perhaps have done was toacquaint his opponents that he proposed to follow a new method.On the other hand, this, as destroying the element of surprise,would have made his strategy of no avail, so that the wholequestion is beset with difficulties. One cannot at leastwithhold a reluctant admiration for the wit that had conceivedso bold a scheme, and the fell [deadly] genius with which it wascarried out.

What were his own feelings about himself at that triumphantmoment? Fain [gladly] would his dogs have known, as breathingheavily and wiping their cutlasses, they gathered at a discreetdistance from his hook, and squinted through their ferret eyes atthis extraordinary man. Elation must have been in his heart, buthis face did not reflect it: ever a dark and solitary enigma, hestood aloof from his followers in spirit as in substance.

The night's work was not yet over, for it was not the redskinshe had come out to destroy; they were but the bees to be smoked,so that he should get at the honey. It was Pan he wanted, Panand Wendy and their band, but chiefly Pan.

Peter was such a small boy that one tends to wonder at theman's hatred of him. True he had flung Hook's arm to thecrocodile, but even this and the increased insecurity of life towhich it led, owing to the crocodile's pertinacity [persistance],hardly account for a vindictiveness so relentless and malignant.The truth is that there was a something about Peter which goadedthe pirate captain to frenzy. It was not his courage, it was nothis engaging appearance, it was not--. There is no beating aboutthe bush, for we know quite well what it was, and have got totell. It was Peter's cockiness.

This had got on Hook's nerves; it made his iron claw twitch,and at night it disturbed him like an insect. While Peter lived,the tortured man felt that he was a lion in a cage into which asparrow had come.

The question now was how to get down the trees, or how to gethis dogs down? He ran his greedy eyes over them, searching forthe thinnest ones. They wriggled uncomfortably, for they knew hewould not scruple [hesitate] to ram them down with poles.

In the meantime, what of the boys? We have seen them at thefirst clang of the weapons, turned as it were into stone figures,open-mouthed, all appealing with outstretched arms to Peter; andwe return to them as their mouths close, and their arms fall totheir sides. The pandemonium above has ceased almost as suddenlyas it arose, passed like a fierce gust of wind; but they knowthat in the passing it has determined their fate.

Which side had won?

The pirates, listening avidly at the mouths of the trees,heard the question put by every boy, and alas, they also heardPeter's answer.

"If the redskins have won," he said, "they will beat the tom-tom; it is always their sign of victory."

Now Smee had found the tom-tom, and was at that moment sittingon it. "You will never hear the tom-tom again," he muttered, butinaudibly of course, for strict silence had been enjoined[urged]. To his amazement Hook signed him to beat the tom-tom,and slowly there came to Smee an understanding of the dreadfulwickedness of the order. Never, probably, had this simple manadmired Hook so much.

Twice Smee beat upon the instrument, and then stopped to listengleefully.

"The tom-tom," the miscreants heard Peter cry; "an Indianvictory!"

The doomed children answered with a cheer that was music to theblack hearts above, and almost immediately they repeated theirgood-byes to Peter. This puzzled the pirates, but all theirother feelings were swallowed by a base delight that the enemywere about to come up the trees. They smirked at each other andrubbed their hands. Rapidly and silently Hook gave his orders:one man to each tree, and the others to arrange themselves in aline two yards apart.

Chapter 13 - DO YOU BELIEVE IN FAIRIES?

The more quickly this horror is disposed of the better. Thefirst to emerge from his tree was Curly. He rose out of it intothe arms of Cecco, who flung him to Smee, who flung him toStarkey, who flung him to Bill Jukes, who flung him to Noodler,and so he was tossed from one to another till he fell at the feetof the black pirate. All the boys were plucked from their treesin this ruthless manner; and several of them were in the airat a time, like bales of goods flung from hand to hand.

A different treatment was accorded to Wendy, who came last.With ironical politeness Hook raised his hat to her, and,offering her his arm, escorted her to the spot where the otherswere being gagged. He did it with such an air, he was sofrightfully DISTINGUE [imposingly distinguished], that she wastoo fascinated to cry out. She was only a little girl.

Perhaps it is tell-tale to divulge that for a moment Hookentranced her, and we tell on her only because her slip led tostrange results. Had she haughtily unhanded him (and we shouldhave loved to write it of her), she would have been hurledthrough the air like the others, and then Hook would probably nothave been present at the tying of the children; and had he notbeen at the tying he would not have discovered Slightly'ssecret, and without the secret he could not presently have madehis foul attempt on Peter's life.

They were tied to prevent their flying away, doubled up withtheir knees close to their ears; and for the trussing of them theblack pirate had cut a rope into nine equal pieces. All wentwell until Slightly's turn came, when he was found to be likethose irritating parcels that use up all the string in goinground and leave no tags [ends] with which to tie a knot. Thepirates kicked him in their rage, just as you kick the parcel(though in fairness you should kick the string); and strange tosay it was Hook who told them to belay their violence. His lipwas curled with malicious triumph. While his dogs were merelysweating because every time they tried to pack the unhappy ladtight in one part he bulged out in another, Hook's master mindhad gone far beneath Slightly's surface, probing not for effectsbut for causes; and his exultation showed that he had found them.Slightly, white to the gills, knew that Hook had surprised[discovered] his secret, which was this, that no boy so blown outcould use a tree wherein an average man need stick. PoorSlightly, most wretched of all the children now, for he was in apanic about Peter, bitterly regretted what he had done. Madlyaddicted to the drinking of water when he was hot, he had swelledin consequence to his present girth, and instead of reducinghimself to fit his tree he had, unknown to the others, whittledhis tree to make it fit him.

Sufficient of this Hook guessed to persuade him that Peter atlast lay at his mercy, but no word of the dark design that nowformed in the subterranean caverns of his mind crossed his lips; hemerely signed that the captives were to be conveyed to the ship,and that he would be alone.

How to convey them? Hunched up in their ropes they mightindeed be rolled down hill like barrels, but most of the way laythrough a morass. Again Hook's genius surmounted difficulties.He indicated that the little house must be used as a conveyance.The children were flung into it, four stout pirates raised it ontheir shoulders, the others fell in behind, and singing thehateful pirate chorus the strange procession set off through thewood. I don't know whether any of the children were crying; ifso, the singing drowned the sound; but as the little housedisappeared in the forest, a brave though tiny jet of smokeissued from its chimney as if defying Hook.

Hook saw it, and it did Peter a bad service. It dried up anytrickle of pity for him that may have remained in the pirate'sinfuriated breast.

The first thing he did on finding himself alone in the fastfalling night was to tiptoe to Slightly's tree, and make surethat it provided him with a passage. Then for long he remainedbrooding; his hat of ill omen on the sward, so that any gentlebreeze which had arisen might play refreshingly through his hair.Dark as were his thoughts his blue eyes were as soft as theperiwinkle. Intently he listened for any sound from the netherworld, but all was as silent below as above; the house under theground seemed to be but one more empty tenement in the void. Was

that boy asleep, or did he stand waiting at the foot ofSlightly's tree, with his dagger in his hand?

There was no way of knowing, save by going down. Hook let hiscloak slip softly to the ground, and then biting his lips till alewd blood stood on them, he stepped into the tree. He was abrave man, but for a moment he had to stop there and wipe his brow,which was dripping like a candle. Then, silently, he let himselfgo into the unknown.

He arrived unmolested at the foot of the shaft, and stood stillagain, biting at his breath, which had almost left him. As hiseyes became accustomed to the dim light various objects in thehome under the trees took shape; but the only one on which hisgreedy gaze rested, long sought for and found at last, was thegreat bed. On the bed lay Peter fast asleep.

Unaware of the tragedy being enacted above, Peter hadcontinued, for a little time after the children left, to playgaily on his pipes: no doubt rather a forlorn attempt to proveto himself that he did not care. Then he decided not to take hismedicine, so as to grieve Wendy. Then he lay down on the bedoutside the coverlet, to vex her still more; for she had alwaystucked them inside it, because you never know that you may notgrow chilly at the turn of the night. Then he nearly cried; butit struck him how indignant she would be if he laughed instead;so he laughed a haughty laugh and fell asleep in the middle ofit.

Sometimes, though not often, he had dreams, and they were morepainful than the dreams of other boys. For hours he could not beseparated from these dreams, though he wailed piteously in them.They had to do, I think, with the riddle of his existence. Atsuch times it had been Wendy's custom to take him out of bed andsit with him on her lap, soothing him in dear ways of her owninvention, and when he grew calmer to put him back to bed beforehe quite woke up, so that he should not know of the indignity towhich she had subjected him. But on this occasion he had fallenat once into a dreamless sleep. One arm dropped over the edge ofthe bed, one leg was arched, and the unfinished part of his laughwas stranded on his mouth, which was open, showing the littlepearls.

Thus defenceless Hook found him. He stood silent at the footof the tree looking across the chamber at his enemy. Did nofeeling of compassion disturb his sombre breast? The man was notwholly evil; he loved flowers (I have been told) and sweet music(he was himself no mean performer on the harpsichord); and, letit be frankly admitted, the idyllic nature of the scene stirredhim profoundly. Mastered by his better self he would havereturned reluctantly up the tree, but for one thing.

What stayed him was Peter's impertinent appearance as he slept.The open mouth, the drooping arm, the arched knee: they weresuch a personification of cockiness as, taken together, willnever again, one may hope, be presented to eyes so sensitive totheir offensiveness. They steeled Hook's heart. If his rage hadbroken him into a hundred pieces every one of them would havedisregarded the incident, and leapt at the sleeper.

Though a light from the one lamp shone dimly on the bed, Hookstood in darkness himself, and at the first stealthy step forwardhe discovered an obstacle, the door of Slightly's tree. It didnot entirely fill the aperture, and he had been looking over it.Feeling for the catch, he found to his fury that it was low down,beyond his reach. To his disordered brain it seemed then thatthe irritating quality in Peter's face and figure visiblyincreased, and he rattled the door and flung himself against it.Was his enemy to escape him after all?

But what was that? The red in his eye had caught sight ofPeter's medicine standing on a ledge within easy reach. Hefathomed what it was straightaway, and immediately knew that thesleeper was in his power.

Lest he should be taken alive, Hook always carried about hisperson a dreadful drug, blended by himself of all the death-dealing rings that had come into his possession. These he hadboiled down into a yellow liquid quite unknown to science, whichwas probably the most virulent poison in existence.

Five drops of this he now added to Peter's cup. His handshook, but it was in exultation rather than in shame. As he didit he avoided glancing at the sleeper, but not lest pity shouldunnerve him; merely to avoid spilling. Then one long gloatinglook he cast upon his victim, and turning, wormed his way withdifficulty up the tree. As he emerged at the top he looked thevery spirit of evil breaking from its hole. Donning his hat atits most rakish angle, he wound his cloak around him, holding oneend in front as if to conceal his person from the night, of whichit was the blackest part, and muttering strangely to himself,stole away through the trees.

Peter slept on. The light guttered [burned to edges] andwent out, leaving the tenement in darkness; but still he slept.It must have been not less than ten o'clock by the crocodile,when he suddenly sat up in his bed, wakened by he knew not what.It was a soft cautious tapping on the door of his tree.

Soft and cautious, but in that stillness it was sinister.Peter felt for his dagger till his hand gripped it. Then hespoke.

"Who is that?"

For long there was no answer: then again the knock.

"Who are you?"

No answer.

He was thrilled, and he loved being thrilled. In two strideshe reached the door. Unlike Slightly's door, it filled theaperture [opening], so that he could not see beyond it, nor couldthe one knocking see him.

"I won't open unless you speak," Peter cried.

Then at last the visitor spoke, in a lovely bell-like voice.

"Let me in, Peter."

It was Tink, and quickly he unbarred to her. She flew inexcitedly, her face flushed and her dress stained with mud.

"What is it?"

"Oh, you could never guess!" she cried, and offered him threeguesses. "Out with it!" he shouted, and in one ungrammaticalsentence, as long as the ribbons that conjurers [magicians] pullfrom their mouths, she told of the capture of Wendy and the boys.

Peter's heart bobbed up and down as he listened. Wendy bound,and on the pirate ship; she who loved everything to be just so!

"I'll rescue her!" he cried, leaping at his weapons. As heleapt he thought of something he could do to please her. Hecould take his medicine.

His hand closed on the fatal draught.

"No!" shrieked Tinker Bell, who had heard Hook mutter about hisdeed as he sped through the forest.

"Why not?"

"It is poisoned."

"Poisoned? Who could have poisoned it?"

"Hook."

"Don't be silly. How could Hook have got down here?"

Alas, Tinker Bell could not explain this, for even she did notknow the dark secret of Slightly's tree. Nevertheless Hook'swords had left no room for doubt. The cup was poisoned.

"Besides," said Peter, quite believing himself "I never fellasleep."

He raised the cup. No time for words now; time for deeds; andwith one of her lightning movements Tink got between his lips andthe draught, and drained it to the dregs.

"Why, Tink, how dare you drink my medicine?"

But she did not answer. Already she was reeling in the air.

"What is the matter with you?" cried Peter, suddenly afraid.

"It was poisoned, Peter," she told him softly; "and now I amgoing to be dead."

"O Tink, did you drink it to save me?"

"Yes."

"But why, Tink?"

Her wings would scarcely carry her now, but in reply shealighted on his shoulder and gave his nose a loving bite. Shewhispered in his ear "You silly ass," and then, tottering to herchamber, lay down on the bed.

His head almost filled the fourth wall of her little room as heknelt near her in distress. Every moment her light was growingfainter; and he knew that if it went out she would be no more.She liked his tears so much that she put out her beautiful fingerand let them run over it.

Her voice was so low that at first he could not make out whatshe said. Then he made it out. She was saying that she thoughtshe could get well again if children believed in fairies.

Peter flung out his arms. There were no children there, and itwas night time; but he addressed all who might be dreaming of theNeverland, and who were therefore nearer to him than you think:boys and girls in their nighties, and naked papooses in theirbaskets hung from trees.

"Do you believe?" he cried.

Tink sat up in bed almost briskly to listen to her fate.

She fancied she heard answers in the affirmative, and thenagain she wasn't sure.

The clapping stopped suddenly; as if countless mothers hadrushed to their nurseries to see what on earth was happening; butalready Tink was saved. First her voice grew strong, then shepopped out of bed, then she was flashing through the room moremerry and impudent than ever. She never thought of thankingthose who believed, but she would have like to get at the oneswho had hissed.

"And now to rescue Wendy!"

The moon was riding in a cloudy heaven when Peter rose from histree, begirt [belted] with weapons and wearing little else, toset out upon his perilous quest. It was not such a night as hewould have chosen. He had hoped to fly, keeping not far from theground so that nothing unwonted should escape his eyes; but inthat fitful light to have flown low would have meant trailing hisshadow through the trees, thus disturbing birds and acquainting awatchful foe that he was astir.

He regretted now that he had given the birds of the island suchstrange names that they are very wild and difficult of approach.

There was no other course but to press forward in redskinfashion, at which happily he was an adept [expert]. But in whatdirection, for he could not be sure that the children had beentaken to the ship? A light fall of snow had obliterated allfootmarks; and a deathly silence pervaded the island, as if for aspace Nature stood still in horror of the recent carnage. He hadtaught the children something of the forest lore that he hadhimself learned from Tiger Lily and Tinker Bell, and knew that intheir dire hour they were not likely to forget it. Slightly, ifhe had an opportunity, would blaze [cut a mark in] the trees, forinstance, Curly would drop seeds, and Wendy would leave herhandkerchief at some important place. The morning was needed tosearch for such guidance, and he could not wait. The upper worldhad called him, but would give no help.

The crocodile passed him, but not another living thing, not asound, not a movement; and yet he knew well that sudden deathmight be at the next tree, or stalking him from behind.

He swore this terrible oath: "Hook or me this time."

Now he crawled forward like a snake, and again erect, hedarted across a space on which the moonlight played, one fingeron his lip and his dagger at the ready. He was frightfullyhappy.

Chapter 14 - THE PIRATE SHIP

One green light squinting over Kidd's Creek, which is near themouth of the pirate river, marked where the brig, the JOLLYROGER, lay, low in the water; a rakish-looking [speedy-looking]craft foul to the hull, every beam in her detestable, like groundstrewn with mangled feathers. She was the cannibal of the seas,and scarce needed that watchful eye, for she floated immune inthe horror of her name.

She was wrapped in the blanket of night, through which no soundfrom her could have reached the shore. There was little sound,and none agreeable save the whir of the ship's sewing machine atwhich Smee sat, ever industrious and obliging, the essence of thecommonplace, pathetic Smee. I know not why he was so infinitelypathetic, unless it were because he was so pathetically unawareof it; but even strong men had to turn hastily from looking athim, and more than once on summer evenings he had touched thefount of Hook's tears and made it flow. Of this, as of almosteverything else, Smee was quite unconscious.

A few of the pirates leant over the bulwarks, drinking in themiasma [putrid mist] of the night; others sprawled by barrels overgames of dice and cards; and the exhausted four who had carriedthe little house lay prone on the deck, where even in their sleepthey rolled skillfully to this side or that out of Hook's reach,lest he should claw them mechanically in passing.

Hook trod the deck in thought. O man unfathomable. It was hishour of triumph. Peter had been removed for ever from his path,and all the other boys were in the brig, about to walk the plank.It was his grimmest deed since the days when he had broughtBarbecue to heel; and knowing as we do how vain a tabernacle isman, could we be surprised had he now paced the deck unsteadily,bellied out by the winds of his success?

But there was no elation in his gait, which kept pace with theaction of his sombre mind. Hook was profoundly dejected.

He was often thus when communing with himself on board ship inthe quietude of the night. It was because he was so terriblyalone. This inscrutable man never felt more alone than whensurrounded by his dogs. They were socially inferior to him.

Hook was not his true name. To reveal who he really was wouldeven at this date set the country in a blaze; but as those whoread between the lines must already have guessed, he had been ata famous public school; and its traditions still clung to himlike garments, with which indeed they are largely concerned.Thus it was offensive to him even now to board a ship in thesame dress in which he grappled [attacked] her, and he stilladhered in his walk to the school's distinguished slouch. Butabove all he retained the passion for good form.

Good form! However much he may have degenerated, he still knewthat this is all that really matters.

From far within him he heard a creaking as of rusty portals,and through them came a stern tap-tap-tap, like hammering in thenight when one cannot sleep. "Have you been good form to-day?"was their eternal question.

"Fame, fame, that glittering bauble, it is mine," he cried.

"Is it quite good form to be distinguished at anything?" thetap-tap from his school replied.

Most disquieting reflection of all, was it not bad form tothink about good form?

His vitals were tortured by this problem. It was a claw withinhim sharper than the iron one; and as it tore him, theperspiration dripped down his tallow [waxy] countenance andstreaked his doublet. Ofttimes he drew his sleeve across hisface, but there was no damming that trickle.

Ah, envy not Hook.

There came to him a presentiment of his early dissolution[death]. It was as if Peter's terrible oath had boarded theship. Hook felt a gloomy desire to make his dying speech, lestpresently there should be no time for it.

"Better for Hook," he cried, "if he had had less ambition!"It was in his darkest hours only that he referred to himselfin the third person.

"No little children to love me!"

Strange that he should think of this, which had never troubledhim before; perhaps the sewing machine brought it to his mind.For long he muttered to himself, staring at Smee, who washemming placidly, under the conviction that all children fearedhim.

Feared him! Feared Smee! There was not a child on board thebrig that night who did not already love him. He had said horridthings to them and hit them with the palm of his hand, because hecould not hit with his fist, but they had only clung to him themore. Michael had tried on his spectacles.

To tell poor Smee that they thought him lovable! Hook itchedto do it, but it seemed too brutal. Instead, he revolved thismystery in his mind: why do they find Smee lovable? He pursuedthe problem like the sleuth-hound that he was. If Smee waslovable, what was it that made him so? A terrible answersuddenly presented itself--"Good form?"

Had the bo'sun good form without knowing it, which is the bestform of all?

He remembered that you have to prove you don't know you have itbefore you are eligible for Pop [an elite social club at Eton].

With a cry of rage he raised his iron hand over Smee's head;but he did not tear. What arrested him was this reflection:

"To claw a man because he is good form, what would that be?"

"Bad form!"

The unhappy Hook was as impotent [powerless] as he was damp,and he fell forward like a cut flower.

His dogs thinking him out of the way for a time, disciplineinstantly relaxed; and they broke into a bacchanalian [drunken]dance, which brought him to his feet at once, all traces of humanweakness gone, as if a bucket of water had passed over him.

"Quiet, you scugs," he cried, "or I'll cast anchor in you"; andat once the din was hushed. "Are all the children chained, sothat they cannot fly away?"

"Ay, ay."

"Then hoist them up."

The wretched prisoners were dragged from the hold, all exceptWendy, and ranged in line in front of him. For a time he seemedunconscious of their presence. He lolled at his ease, humming,not unmelodiously, snatches of a rude song, and fingering a packof cards. Ever and anon the light from his cigar gave a touch ofcolour to his face.

"Now then, bullies," he said briskly, "six of you walk theplank to-night, but I have room for two cabin boys. Which of youis it to be?"

"Don't irritate him unnecessarily," had been Wendy'sinstructions in the hold; so Tootles stepped forward politely.Tootles hated the idea of signing under such a man, but aninstinct told him that it would be prudent to lay theresponsibility on an absent person; and though a somewhat sillyboy, he knew that mothers alone are always willing to be thebuffer. All children know this about mothers, and despise themfor it, but make constant use of it.

So Tootles explained prudently, "You see, sir, I don't think mymother would like me to be a pirate. Would your mother like youto be a pirate, Slightly?"

He winked at Slightly, who said mournfully, "I don't think so,"as if he wished things had been otherwise. "Would your motherlike you to be a pirate, Twin?"

"I don't think so," said the first twin, as clever as theothers. "Nibs, would--"

"Stow this gab," roared Hook, and the spokesmen were draggedback. "You, boy," he said, addressing John, "you look as if youhad a little pluck in you. Didst never want to be a pirate, myhearty?"

Now John had sometimes experienced this hankering at maths.prep.; and he was struck by Hook's picking him out.

"I once thought of calling myself Red-handed Jack," he saiddiffidently.

"And a good name too. We'll call you that here, bully, if youjoin."

"What do you think, Michael?" asked John.

"What would you call me if I join?" Michael demanded.

"Blackbeard Joe."

Michael was naturally impressed. "What do you think, John?"He wanted John to decide, and John wanted him to decide.

"Shall we still be respectful subjects of the King?" Johninquired.

Through Hook's teeth came the answer: "You would have toswear, `Down with the King.'"

Perhaps John had not behaved very well so far, but he shone outnow.

"Then I refuse," he cried, banging the barrel in front of Hook.

"And I refuse," cried Michael.

"Rule Britannia!" squeaked Curly.

The infuriated pirates buffeted them in the mouth; and Hookroared out, "That seals your doom. Bring up their mother. Getthe plank ready."

They were only boys, and they went white as they saw Jukes andCecco preparing the fatal plank. But they tried to look bravewhen Wendy was brought up.

No words of mine can tell you how Wendy despised those pirates.To the boys there was at least some glamour in the piratecalling; but all that she saw was that the ship had not beentidied for years. There was not a porthole on the grimy glassof which you might not have written with your finger "Dirty pig";and she had already written it on several. But as the boysgathered round her she had no thought, of course, save for them.

"So, my beauty," said Hook, as if he spoke in syrup, "you areto see your children walk the plank."

Fine gentlemen though he was, the intensity of his communingshad soiled his ruff, and suddenly he knew that she was gazing atit. With a hasty gesture he tried to hide it, but he was too late.

"Are they to die?" asked Wendy, with a look of such frightfulcontempt that he nearly fainted.

"They are," he snarled. "Silence all," he called gloatingly,"for a mother's last words to her children."

At this moment Wendy was grand. "These are my last words, dearboys," she said firmly. "I feel that I have a message to youfrom your real mothers, and it is this: `We hope our sons willdie like English gentlemen.'"

Even the pirates were awed, and Tootles cried out hysterically,"I am going to do what my mother hopes. What are you to do, Nibs?"

"What my mother hopes. What are you to do, Twin?"

"What my mother hopes. John, what are--"

But Hook had found his voice again.

"Tie her up!" he shouted.

It was Smee who tied her to the mast. "See here, honey," hewhispered, "I'll save you if you promise to be my mother."

But not even for Smee would she make such a promise. "I wouldalmost rather have no children at all," she said disdainfully[scornfully].

It is sad to know that not a boy was looking at her as Smeetied her to the mast; the eyes of all were on the plank: thatlast little walk they were about to take. They were no longerable to hope that they would walk it manfully, for the capacityto think had gone from them; they could stare and shiver only.

Hook smiled on them with his teeth closed, and took a steptoward Wendy. His intention was to turn her face so that sheshould see they boys walking the plank one by one. But he neverreached her, he never heard the cry of anguish he hoped to wringfrom her. He heard something else instead.

It was the terrible tick-tick of the crocodile.

They all heard it--pirates, boys, Wendy; and immediatelyevery head was blown in one direction; not to the water whencethe sound proceeded, but toward Hook. All knew that what wasabout to happen concerned him alone, and that from being actorsthey were suddenly become spectators.

Very frightful was it to see the change that came over him. Itwas as if he had been clipped at every joint. He fell in alittle heap.

The sound came steadily nearer; and in advance of it came thisghastly thought, "The crocodile is about to board the ship!"

Even the iron claw hung inactive; as if knowing that it was nointrinsic part of what the attacking force wanted. Left sofearfully alone, any other man would have lain with his eyes shutwhere he fell: but the gigantic brain of Hook was still working,and under its guidance he crawled on the knees along the deck asfar from the sound as he could go. The pirates respectfullycleared a passage for him, and it was only when he brought upagainst the bulwarks that he spoke.

"Hide me!" he cried hoarsely.

They gathered round him, all eyes averted from the thing thatwas coming aboard. They had no thought of fighting it. It wasFate.

Only when Hook was hidden from them did curiosity loosen thelimbs of the boys so that they could rush to the ship's side tosee the crocodile climbing it. Then they got the strangestsurprise of the Night of Nights; for it was no crocodile that wascoming to their aid. It was Peter.

He signed to them not to give vent to any cry of admirationthat might rouse suspicion. Then he went on ticking.

Chapter 15 - "HOOK OR ME THIS TIME"

Odd things happen to all of us on our way through life withoutour noticing for a time that they have happened. Thus, to takean instance, we suddenly discover that we have been deaf in oneear for we don't know how long, but, say, half an hour. Now suchan experience had come that night to Peter. When last we saw himhe was stealing across the island with one finger to his lips andhis dagger at the ready. He had seen the crocodile pass bywithout noticing anything peculiar about it, but by and by heremembered that it had not been ticking. At first he thoughtthis eerie, but soon concluded rightly that the clock had rundown.

Without giving a thought to what might be the feelings of afellow-creature thus abruptly deprived of its closest companion,Peter began to consider how he could turn the catastrophe to hisown use; and he decided to tick, so that wild beasts shouldbelieve he was the crocodile and let him pass unmolested. Heticked superbly, but with one unforeseen result. The crocodilewas among those who heard the sound, and it followed him, thoughwhether with the purpose of regaining what it had lost, ormerely as a friend under the belief that it was again tickingitself, will never be certainly known, for, like slaves to afixed idea, it was a stupid beast.

Peter reached the shore without mishap, and went straight on,his legs encountering the water as if quite unaware that they hadentered a new element. Thus many animals pass from land towater, but no other human of whom I know. As he swam he had butone thought: "Hook or me this time." He had ticked so long thathe now went on ticking without knowing that he was doing it. Hadhe known he would have stopped, for to board the brig by help ofthe tick, though an ingenious idea, had not occurred to him.

On the contrary, he thought he had scaled her side as noiselessas a mouse; and he was amazed to see the pirates cowering fromhim, with Hook in their midst as abject as if he had heard thecrocodile.

The crocodile! No sooner did Peter remember it than he heardthe ticking. At first he thought the sound did come from thecrocodile, and he looked behind him swiftly. They he realisedthat he was doing it himself, and in a flash he understood thesituation. "How clever of me!" he thought at once, and signedto the boys not to burst into applause.

It was at this moment that Ed Teynte the quartermaster emergedfrom the forecastle and came along the deck. Now, reader, timewhat happened by your watch. Peter struck true and deep. Johnclapped his hands on the ill-fated pirate's mouth to stifle thedying groan. He fell forward. Four boys caught him to preventthe thud. Peter gave the signal, and the carrion was castoverboard. There was a splash, and then silence. How long hasit taken?

"One!" (Slightly had begun to count.)

None too soon, Peter, every inch of him on tiptoe, vanishedinto the cabin; for more than one pirate was screwing up hiscourage to look round. They could hear each other's distressedbreathing now, which showed them that the more terrible sound hadpassed.

Slowly Hook let his head emerge from his ruff, and listened sointently that he could have caught the echo of the tick. Therewas not a sound, and he drew himself up firmly to his fullheight.

"Then here's to Johnny Plank!" he cried brazenly, hating theboys more than ever because they had seen him unbend. He brokeinto the villainous ditty:

"Yo ho, yo ho, the frisky plank,You walks along it so,Till it goes down and you goes downTo Davy Jones below!"

To terrorize the prisoners the more, though with a certain lossof dignity, he danced along an imaginary plank, grimacing at themas he sang; and when he finished he cried, "Do you want a touchof the cat [o' nine tails] before you walk the plank?"

At that they fell on their knees. "No, no!" they cried sopiteously that every pirate smiled.

"Fetch the cat, Jukes," said Hook; "it's in the cabin."

The cabin! Peter was in the cabin! The children gazed at eachother.

"Ay, ay," said Jukes blithely, and he strode into the cabin.They followed him with their eyes; they scarce knew that Hook hadresumed his song, his dogs joining in with him:

What was the last line will never be known, for of a sudden thesong was stayed by a dreadful screech from the cabin. It wailedthrough the ship, and died away. Then was heard a crowing soundwhich was well understood by the boys, but to the pirates wasalmost more eerie than the screech.

"What was that?" cried Hook.

"Two," said Slightly solemnly.

The Italian Cecco hesitated for a moment and then swung intothe cabin. He tottered out, haggard.

"What's the matter with Bill Jukes, you dog?" hissed Hook,towering over him.

"The matter wi' him is he's dead, stabbed," replied Cecco in ahollow voice.

"Bill Jukes dead!" cried the startled pirates.

"The cabin's as black as a pit," Cecco said, almost gibbering,"but there is something terrible in there: the thing you heardcrowing."

The exultation of the boys, the lowering looks of the pirates,both were seen by Hook.

"Cecco," he said in his most steely voice, "go back and fetchme out that doodle-doo."

Cecco, bravest of the brave, cowered before his captain, crying"No, no"; but Hook was purring to his claw.

"Did you say you would go, Cecco?" he said musingly.

Cecco went, first flinging his arms despairingly. There was nomore singing, all listened now; and again came a death-screechand again a crow.

No one spoke except Slightly. "Three," he said.

Hook rallied his dogs with a gesture. "'S'death and oddsfish," he thundered, "who is to bring me that doodle-doo?"

"My hook thinks you did," said Hook, crossing to him. "Iwonder if it would not be advisable, Starkey, to humour the hook?"

"I'll swing before I go in there," replied Starkey doggedly,and again he had the support of the crew.

"Is this mutiny?" asked Hook more pleasantly than ever."Starkey's ringleader!"

"Captain, mercy!" Starkey whimpered, all of a tremble now.

"Shake hands, Starkey," said Hook, proffering his claw.

Starkey looked round for help, but all deserted him. As hebacked up Hook advanced, and now the red spark was in his eye.With a despairing scream the pirate leapt upon Long Tom andprecipitated himself into the sea.

"Four," said Slightly.

"And now," Hook said courteously, "did any other gentlemen saymutiny?" Seizing a lantern and raising his claw with a menacinggesture, "I'll bring out that doodle-doo myself," he said, andsped into the cabin.

"Five." How Slightly longed to say it. He wetted his lips tobe ready, but Hook came staggering out, without his lantern.

"Something blew out the light," he said a little unsteadily.

"Something!" echoed Mullins.

"What of Cecco?" demanded Noodler.

"He's as dead as Jukes," said Hook shortly.

His reluctance to return to the cabin impressed them allunfavourably, and the mutinous sounds again broke forth. Allpirates are superstitious, and Cookson cried, "They do say thesurest sign a ship's accurst is when there's one on board morethan can be accounted for."

"They say," said another, looking viciously at Hook, "that whenhe comes it's in the likeness of the wickedest man aboard."

"Had he a hook, captain?" asked Cookson insolently; and oneafter another took up the cry, "The ship's doomed!" At this thechildren could not resist raising a cheer. Hook had well-nighforgotten his prisoners, but as he swung round on them now hisface lit up again.

"Lads," he cried to his crew, "now here's a notion. Open thecabin door and drive them in. Let them fight the doodle-doo fortheir lives. If they kill him, we're so much the better; if hekills them, we're none the worse."

For the last time his dogs admired Hook, and devotedly they didhis bidding. The boys, pretending to struggle, were pushed intothe cabin and the door was closed on them.

"Now, listen!" cried Hook, and all listened. But not one daredto face the door. Yes, one, Wendy, who all this time had beenbound to the mast. It was for neither a scream nor a crow thatshe was watching, it was for the reappearance of Peter.

She had not long to wait. In the cabin he had found the thingfor which he had gone in search: the key that would free thechildren of their manacles, and now they all stole forth, armedwith such weapons as they could find. First signing them tohide, Peter cut Wendy's bonds, and then nothing could have beeneasier than for them all to fly off together; but one thingbarred the way, an oath, "Hook or me this time." So when he hadfreed Wendy, he whispered for her to conceal herself with theothers, and himself took her place by the mast, her cloak aroundhim so that he should pass for her. Then he took a great breathand crowed.

To the pirates it was a voice crying that all the boys layslain in the cabin; and they were panic-stricken. Hook tried tohearten them; but like the dogs he had made them they showed himtheir fangs, and he knew that if he took his eyes off them nowthey would leap at him.

"Lads," he said, ready to cajole or strike as need be, butnever quailing for an instant, "I've thought it out. There's aJonah aboard."

"Ay," they snarled, "a man wi' a hook."

"No, lads, no, it's the girl. Never was luck on a pirate shipwi' a woman on board. We'll right the ship when she's gone."

Some of them remembered that this had been a saying ofFlint's. "It's worth trying," they said doubtfully.

"Fling the girl overboard," cried Hook; and they made a rush atthe figure in the cloak.

"There's none can save you now, missy," Mullins hissedjeeringly.

"There's one," replied the figure.

"Who's that?"

"Peter Pan the avenger!" came the terrible answer; and as hespoke Peter flung off his cloak. Then they all knew who 'twasthat had been undoing them in the cabin, and twice Hook essayedto speak and twice he failed. In that frightful moment I thinkhis fierce heart broke.

At last he cried, "Cleave him to the brisket!" but withoutconviction.

"Down, boys, and at them!" Peter's voice rang out; and inanother moment the clash of arms was resounding through the ship.Had the pirates kept together it is certain that they would havewon; but the onset came when they were still unstrung, and theyran hither and thither, striking wildly, each thinking himselfthe last survivor of the crew. Man to man they were thestronger; but they fought on the defensive only, which enabledthe boys to hunt in pairs and choose their quarry. Some of themiscreants leapt into the sea; others hid in dark recesses, wherethey were found by Slightly, who did not fight, but ran aboutwith a lantern which he flashed in their faces, so that they werehalf blinded and fell as an easy prey to the reeking swords ofthe other boys. There was little sound to be heard but the clangof weapons, an occasional screech or splash, and Slightlymonotonously counting--five--six--seven--eight--nine--ten--eleven.

I think all were gone when a group of savage boys surroundedHook, who seemed to have a charmed life, as he kept them at bayin that circle of fire. They had done for his dogs, but this manalone seemed to be a match for them all. Again and again theyclosed upon him, and again and again he hewed a clear space. Hehad lifted up one boy with his hook, and was using him as abuckler [shield], when another, who had just passed his swordthrough Mullins, sprang into the fray.

"Put up your swords, boys," cried the newcomer, "this man ismine."

Thus suddenly Hook found himself face to face with Peter. Theothers drew back and formed a ring around them.

For long the two enemies looked at one another, Hook shudderingslightly, and Peter with the strange smile upon his face.

"So, Pan," said Hook at last, "this is all your doing."

"Ay, James Hook," came the stern answer, "it is all my doing."

"Proud and insolent youth," said Hook, "prepare to meet thydoom."

"Dark and sinister man," Peter answered, "have at thee."

Without more words they fell to, and for a space there was noadvantage to either blade. Peter was a superb swordsman, andparried with dazzling rapidity; ever and anon he followed up afeint with a lunge that got past his foe's defence, but hisshorter reach stood him in ill stead, and he could not drive thesteel home. Hook, scarcely his inferior in brilliancy, but notquite so nimble in wrist play, forced him back by the weight ofhis onset, hoping suddenly to end all with a favourite thrust,taught him long ago by Barbecue at Rio; but to his astonishment hefound this thrust turned aside again and again. Then he sought toclose and give the quietus with his iron hook, which all this timehad been pawing the air; but Peter doubled under it and, lungingfiercely, pierced him in the ribs. At the sight of his own blood,whose peculiar colour, you remember, was offensive to him,the sword fell from Hook's hand, and he was at Peter's mercy.

"Now!" cried all the boys, but with a magnificent gesture Peterinvited his opponent to pick up his sword. Hook did so instantly,but with a tragic feeling that Peter was showing good form.

Hitherto he had thought it was some fiend fighting him, butdarker suspicions assailed him now.

"Pan, who and what art thou?" he cried huskily.

"I'm youth, I'm joy," Peter answered at a venture, "I'm alittle bird that has broken out of the egg."

This, of course, was nonsense; but it was proof to the unhappyHook that Peter did not know in the least who or what he was,which is the very pinnacle of good form.

"To't again," he cried despairingly.

He fought now like a human flail, and every sweep of thatterrible sword would have severed in twain any man or boy whoobstructed it; but Peter fluttered round him as if the very windit made blew him out of the danger zone. And again and again hedarted in and pricked.

Hook was fighting now without hope. That passionate breast nolonger asked for life; but for one boon it craved: to see Petershow bad form before it was cold forever.

Abandoning the fight he rushed into the powder magazine andfired it.

"In two minutes," he cried, "the ship will be blown to pieces."

Now, now, he thought, true form will show.

But Peter issued from the powder magazine with the shell in hishands, and calmly flung it overboard.

What sort of form was Hook himself showing? Misguided manthough he was, we may be glad, without sympathising with him,that in the end he was true to the traditions of his race. Theother boys were flying around him now, flouting, scornful; and hestaggered about the deck striking up at them impotently, his mindwas no longer with them; it was slouching in the playing fieldsof long ago, or being sent up [to the headmaster] for good, orwatching the wall-game from a famous wall. And his shoes wereright, and his waistcoat was right, and his tie was right, andhis socks were right.

James Hook, thou not wholly unheroic figure, farewell.

For we have come to his last moment.

Seeing Peter slowly advancing upon him through the air withdagger poised, he sprang upon the bulwarks to cast himself intothe sea. He did not know that the crocodile was waiting forhim; for we purposely stopped the clock that this knowledge mightbe spared him: a little mark of respect from us at the end.

He had one last triumph, which I think we need not grudge him.As he stood on the bulwark looking over his shoulder at Petergliding through the air, he invited him with a gesture to use hisfoot. It made Peter kick instead of stab.

At last Hook had got the boon for which he craved.

"Bad form," he cried jeeringly, and went content to thecrocodile.

Thus perished James Hook.

"Seventeen," Slightly sang out; but he was not quite correct inhis figures. Fifteen paid the penalty for their crimes thatnight; but two reached the shore: Starkey to be captured by theredskins, who made him nurse for all their papooses, a melancholycome-down for a pirate; and Smee, who henceforth wandered aboutthe world in his spectacles, making a precarious living by sayinghe was the only man that Jas. Hook had feared.

Wendy, of course, had stood by taking no part in the fight,though watching Peter with glistening eyes; but now that all wasover she became prominent again. She praised them equally, andshuddered delightfully when Michael showed her the place where hehad killed one; and then she took them into Hook's cabin andpointed to his watch which was hanging on a nail. It said "half-past one!"

The lateness of the hour was almost the biggest thing of all.She got them to bed in the pirates' bunks pretty quickly, you maybe sure; all but Peter, who strutted up and down on the deck,until at last he fell asleep by the side of Long Tom. He had oneof his dreams that night, and cried in his sleep for a long time,and Wendy held him tightly.

Chapter 16 - THE RETURN HOME

By three bells that morning they were all stirring their stumps[legs]; for there was a big sea running; and Tootles, the bo'sun,was among them, with a rope's end in his hand and chewingtobacco. They all donned pirate clothes cut off at the knee,shaved smartly, and tumbled up, with the true nautical roll andhitching their trousers.

It need not be said who was the captain. Nibs and John werefirst and second mate. There was a woman aboard. The rest weretars [sailors] before the mast, and lived in the fo'c'sle. Peterhad already lashed himself to the wheel; but he piped all handsand delivered a short address to them; said he hoped they woulddo their duty like gallant hearties, but that he knew they werethe scum of Rio and the Gold Coast, and if they snapped at him hewould tear them. The bluff strident words struck the notesailors understood, and they cheered him lustily. Then a fewsharp orders were given, and they turned the ship round, and nosedher for the mainland.

Captain Pan calculated, after consulting the ship's chart, thatif this weather lasted they should strike the Azores about the21st of June, after which it would save time to fly.

Some of them wanted it to be an honest ship and others were infavour of keeping it a pirate; but the captain treated them asdogs, and they dared not express their wishes to him even in around robin [one person after another, as they had to Cpt. Hook].Instant obedience was the only safe thing. Slightly got a dozenfor looking perplexed when told to take soundings. The generalfeeling was that Peter was honest just now to lull Wendy'ssuspicions, but that there might be a change when the new suitwas ready, which, against her will, she was making for him out ofsome of Hook's wickedest garments. It was afterwards whisperedamong them that on the first night he wore this suit he sat longin the cabin with Hook's cigar-holder in his mouth and one handclenched, all but for the forefinger, which he bent and heldthreateningly aloft like a hook.

Instead of watching the ship, however, we must now return tothat desolate home from which three of our characters had takenheartless flight so long ago. It seems a shame to have neglectedNo. 14 all this time; and yet we may be sure that Mrs. Darlingdoes not blame us. If we had returned sooner to look withsorrowful sympathy at her, she would probably have cried, "Don'tbe silly; what do I matter? Do go back and keep an eye on thechildren." So long as mothers are like this their children willtake advantage of them; and they may lay to [bet on] that.

Even now we venture into that familiar nursery only because itslawful occupants are on their way home; we are merely hurrying onin advance of them to see that their beds are properly aired andthat Mr. and Mrs. Darling do not go out for the evening. We areno more than servants. Why on earth should their beds beproperly aired, seeing that they left them in such a thanklesshurry? Would it not serve them jolly well right if they cameback and found that their parents were spending the week-end inthe country? It would be the moral lesson they have been in needof ever since we met them; but if we contrived things in this wayMrs. Darling would never forgive us.

One thing I should like to do immensely, and that is to tellher, in the way authors have, that the children are coming back,that indeed they will be here on Thursday week. This would spoilso completely the surprise to which Wendy and John and Michaelare looking forward. They have been planning it out on the ship:mother's rapture, father's shout of joy, Nana's leap through theair to embrace them first, when what they ought to be preparedfor is a good hiding. How delicious to spoil it all by breakingthe news in advance; so that when they enter grandly Mrs. Darlingmay not even offer Wendy her mouth, and Mr. Darling may exclaimpettishly, "Dash it all, here are those boys again." However, weshould get no thanks even for this. We are beginning to knowMrs. Darling by this time, and may be sure that she would upbraidus for depriving the children of their little pleasure.

"But, my dear madam, it is ten days till Thursday week; so thatby telling you what's what, we can save you ten days ofunhappiness."

"Yes, but at what a cost! By depriving the children of tenminutes of delight."

"Oh, if you look at it in that way!"

"What other way is there in which to look at it?"

You see, the woman had no proper spirit. I had meant to sayextraordinarily nice things about her; but I despise her, and notone of them will I say now. She does not really need to be toldto have things ready, for they are ready. All the beds are aired,and she never leaves the house, and observe, the window is open.For all the use we are to her, we might well go back to the ship.However, as we are here we may as well stay and look on. That isall we are, lookers-on. Nobody really wants us. So let us watchand say jaggy things, in the hope that some of them will hurt.

The only change to be seen in the night-nursery is that betweennine and six the kennel is no longer there. When the childrenflew away, Mr. Darling felt in his bones that all the blame washis for having chained Nana up, and that from first to last shehad been wiser than he. Of course, as we have seen, he was quitea simple man; indeed he might have passed for a boy again if hehad been able to take his baldness off; but he had also a noblesense of justice and a lion's courage to do what seemed right tohim; and having thought the matter out with anxious care afterthe flight of the children, he went down on all fours and crawledinto the kennel. To all Mrs. Darling's dear invitations to himto come out he replied sadly but firmly:

"No, my own one, this is the place for me."

In the bitterness of his remorse he swore that he would neverleave the kennel until his children came back. Of course thiswas a pity; but whatever Mr. Darling did he had to do in excess,otherwise he soon gave up doing it. And there never was a morehumble man than the once proud George Darling, as he sat in thekennel of an evening talking with his wife of their children andall their pretty ways.

Very touching was his deference to Nana. He would not let hercome into the kennel, but on all other matters he followed herwishes implicitly.

Every morning the kennel was carried with Mr. Darling in it toa cab, which conveyed him to his office, and he returned home inthe same way at six. Something of the strength of character ofthe man will be seen if we remember how sensitive he was to theopinion of neighbours: this man whose every movement nowattracted surprised attention. Inwardly he must have sufferedtorture; but he preserved a calm exterior even when the youngcriticised his little home, and he always lifted his hatcourteously to any lady who looked inside.

It may have been Quixotic, but it was magnificent. Soon theinward meaning of it leaked out, and the great heart of thepublic was touched. Crowds followed the cab, cheering itlustily; charming girls scaled it to get his autograph;interviews appeared in the better class of papers, and societyinvited him to dinner and added, "Do come in the kennel."

On that eventful Thursday week, Mrs. Darling was in the night-nursery awaiting George's return home; a very sad-eyed woman.Now that we look at her closely and remember the gaiety of her inthe old days, all gone now just because she has lost her babes, Ifind I won't be able to say nasty things about her after all. Ifshe was too fond of her rubbishy children, she couldn't help it.Look at her in her chair, where she has fallen asleep. Thecorner of her mouth, where one looks first, is almost witheredup. Her hand moves restlessly on her breast as if she had apain there. Some like Peter best, and some like Wendy best, butI like her best. Suppose, to make her happy, we whisper to herin her sleep that the brats are coming back. They are reallywithin two miles of the window now, and flying strong, but allwe need whisper is that they are on the way. Let's.

It is a pity we did it, for she has started up, calling theirnames; and there is no one in the room but Nana.

"O Nana, I dreamt my dear ones had come back."

Nana had filmy eyes, but all she could do was put her pawgently on her mistress's lap; and they were sitting together thuswhen the kennel was brought back. As Mr. Darling puts his headout to kiss his wife, we see that his face is more worn than ofyore, but has a softer expression.

He gave his hat to Liza, who took it scornfully; for she had noimagination, and was quite incapable of understanding the motivesof such a man. Outside, the crowd who had accompanied the cabhome were still cheering, and he was naturally not unmoved.

"Listen to them," he said; "it is very gratifying."

"Lots of little boys," sneered Liza.

"There were several adults to-day," he assured her with a faintflush; but when she tossed her head he had not a word of reproof forher. Social success had not spoilt him; it had made him sweeter.For some time he sat with his head out of the kennel, talking withMrs. Darling of this success, and pressing her hand reassuringlywhen she said she hoped his head would not be turned by it.

"But if I had been a weak man," he said. "Good heavens, if Ihad been a weak man!"

"And, George," she said timidly, "you are as full of remorse asever, aren't you?"

"Full of remorse as ever, dearest! See my punishment: livingin a kennel."

"But it is punishment, isn't it, George? You are sure you arenot enjoying it?"

"My love!"

You may be sure she begged his pardon; and then, feelingdrowsy, he curled round in the kennel.

"Won't you play me to sleep," he asked, "on the nursery piano?"and as she was crossing to the day-nursery he addedthoughtlessly, "And shut that window. I feel a draught."

"O George, never ask me to do that. The window must always beleft open for them, always, always."

Now it was his turn to beg her pardon; and she went into theday-nursery and played, and soon he was asleep; and while heslept, Wendy and John and Michael flew into the room.

Oh no. We have written it so, because that was the charmingarrangement planned by them before we left the ship; butsomething must have happened since then, for it is not they whohave flown in, it is Peter and Tinker Bell.

Peter's first words tell all.

"Quick Tink," he whispered, "close the window; bar it! That'sright. Now you and I must get away by the door; and when Wendycomes she will think her mother has barred her out; and she willhave to go back with me."

Now I understand what had hitherto puzzled me, why when Peterhad exterminated the pirates he did not return to the island andleave Tink to escort the children to the mainland. This trickhad been in his head all the time.

Instead of feeling that he was behaving badly he danced withglee; then he peeped into the day-nursery to see who was playing.He whispered to Tink, "It's Wendy's mother! She is a prettylady, but not so pretty as my mother. Her mouth is full ofthimbles, but not so full as my mother's was."

Of course he knew nothing whatever about his mother; but hesometimes bragged about her.

He did not know the tune, which was "Home, Sweet Home," but heknew it was saying, "Come back, Wendy, Wendy, Wendy"; and hecried exultantly, "You will never see Wendy again, lady, for thewindow is barred!"

He peeped in again to see why the music had stopped, and now hesaw that Mrs. Darling had laid her head on the box, and that twotears were sitting on her eyes.

He peeped again, and the tears were still there, or another twohad taken their place.

"She's awfully fond of Wendy," he said to himself. He wasangry with her now for not seeing why she could not have Wendy.

The reason was so simple: "I'm fond of her too. We can't bothhave her, lady."

But the lady would not make the best of it, and he was unhappy.He ceased to look at her, but even then she would not let go ofhim. He skipped about and made funny faces, but when he stoppedit was just as if she were inside him, knocking.

"Oh, all right," he said at last, and gulped. Then he unbarredthe window. "Come on, Tink," he cried, with a frightful sneer atthe laws of nature; "we don't want any silly mothers"; and heflew away.

Thus Wendy and John and Michael found the window open for themafter all, which of course was more than they deserved. Theyalighted on the floor, quite unashamed of themselves, and theyoungest one had already forgotten his home.

"John," he said, looking around him doubtfully, "I think I havebeen here before."

"Of course you have, you silly. There is your old bed."

"So it is," Michael said, but not with much conviction.

"I say," cried John, "the kennel!" and he dashed across to lookinto it.

"Perhaps Nana is inside it," Wendy said.

But John whistled. "Hullo," he said, "there's a man insideit."

"It's father!" exclaimed Wendy.

"Let me see father," Michael begged eagerly, and he took a goodlook. "He is not so big as the pirate I killed," he said withsuch frank disappointment that I am glad Mr. Darling was asleep;it would have been sad if those had been the first words he heardhis little Michael say.

Wendy and John had been taken aback somewhat at finding theirfather in the kennel.

"Surely," said John, like one who had lost faith in his memory,"he used not to sleep in the kennel?"

"John," Wendy said falteringly, "perhaps we don't remember theold life as well as we thought we did."

A chill fell upon them; and serve them right.

"It is very careless of mother," said that young scoundrelJohn, "not to be here when we come back."

"Oh dear!" exclaimed Wendy, with her first real twinge ofremorse [for having gone], "it was quite time we came back."

"Let us creep in," John suggested, "and put our hands over hereyes."

But Wendy, who saw that they must break the joyous news moregently, had a better plan.

"Let us all slip into our beds, and be there when she comes in,just as if we had never been away."

And so when Mrs. Darling went back to the night-nursery to seeif her husband was asleep, all the beds were occupied. Thechildren waited for her cry of joy, but it did not come. She sawthem, but she did not believe they were there. You see, she sawthem in their beds so often in her dreams that she thought thiswas just the dream hanging around her still.

She sat down in the chair by the fire, where in the old daysshe had nursed them.

They could not understand this, and a cold fear fell upon allthe three of them.

"Mother!" Wendy cried.

"That's Wendy," she said, but still she was sure it was thedream.

"Mother!"

"That's John," she said.

"Mother!" cried Michael. He knew her now.

"That's Michael," she said, and she stretched out her arms forthe three little selfish children they would never envelop again.Yes, they did, they went round Wendy and John and Michael, whohad slipped out of bed and run to her.

"George, George!" she cried when she could speak; and Mr.Darling woke to share her bliss, and Nana came rushing in. Therecould not have been a lovelier sight; but there was none to seeit except a little boy who was staring in at the window. He hadhad ecstasies innumerable that other children can never know; buthe was looking through the window at the one joy from which hemust be for ever barred.

Chapter 17 - WHEN WENDY GREW UP

I hope you want to know what became of the other boys. Theywere waiting below to give Wendy time to explain about them; andwhen they had counted five hundred they went up. They went up bythe stair, because they thought this would make a betterimpression. They stood in a row in front of Mrs. Darling, withtheir hats off, and wishing they were not wearing their pirateclothes. They said nothing, but their eyes asked her to havethem. They ought to have looked at Mr. Darling also, but theyforgot about him.

Of course Mrs. Darling said at once that she would have them;but Mr. Darling was curiously depressed, and they saw that heconsidered six a rather large number.

"I must say," he said to Wendy, "that you don't do things byhalves," a grudging remark which the twins thought was pointed atthem.

The first twin was the proud one, and he asked, flushing, "Doyou think we should be too much of a handful, sir? Because, ifso, we can go away."

"Father!" Wendy cried, shocked; but still the cloud was on him.He knew he was behaving unworthily, but he could not help it.

"We could lie doubled up," said Nibs.

"I always cut their hair myself," said Wendy.

"George!" Mrs. Darling exclaimed, pained to see her dear oneshowing himself in such an unfavourable light.

Then he burst into tears, and the truth came out. He was asglad to have them as she was, he said, but he thought they shouldhave asked his consent as well as hers, instead of treating himas a cypher [zero] in his own house.

"I don't think he is a cypher," Tootles cried instantly. "Doyou think he is a cypher, Curly?"

"No, I don't. Do you think he is a cypher, Slightly?"

"Rather not. Twin, what do you think?"

It turned out that not one of them thought him a cypher; and hewas absurdly gratified, and said he would find space for them allin the drawing-room if they fitted in.

"We'll fit in, sir," they assured him.

"Then follow the leader," he cried gaily. "Mind you, I am notsure that we have a drawing-room, but we pretend we have, andit's all the same. Hoop la!"

He went off dancing through the house, and they all cried "Hoopla!" and danced after him, searching for the drawing-room; and Iforget whether they found it, but at any rate they found corners,and they all fitted in.

As for Peter, he saw Wendy once again before he flew away. Hedid not exactly come to the window, but he brushed against it inpassing so that she could open it if she liked and call to him.That is what she did.

"Hullo, Wendy, good-bye," he said.

"Oh dear, are you going away?"

"Yes."

"You don't feel, Peter," she said falteringly, "that you wouldlike to say anything to my parents about a very sweet subject?"

"No."

"About me, Peter?"

"No."

Mrs. Darling came to the window, for at present she was keepinga sharp eye on Wendy. She told Peter that she had adopted allthe other boys, and would like to adopt him also.

"Would you send me to school?" he inquired craftily.

"Yes."

"And then to an office?"

"I suppose so."

"Soon I would be a man?"

"Very soon."

"I don't want to go to school and learn solemn things," he toldher passionately. "I don't want to be a man. O Wendy's mother,if I was to wake up and feel there was a beard!"

"Peter," said Wendy the comforter, "I should love you in abeard"; and Mrs. Darling stretched out her arms to him, but herepulsed her.

"Keep back, lady, no one is going to catch me and make me aman."

"But where are you going to live?"

"With Tink in the house we built for Wendy. The fairies are toput it high up among the tree tops where they sleep at nights."

"There are always a lot of young ones," explained Wendy, whowas now quite an authority, "because you see when a new babylaughs for the first time a new fairy is born, and as there arealways new babies there are always new fairies. They live innests on the tops of trees; and the mauve ones are boys and thewhite ones are girls, and the blue ones are just little sillieswho are not sure what they are."

"I shall have such fun," said Peter, with eye on Wendy.

"It will be rather lonely in the evening," she said, "sittingby the fire."

"I shall have Tink."

"Tink can't go a twentieth part of the way round," she remindedhim a little tartly.

"Sneaky tell-tale!" Tink called out from somewhere round thecorner.

"It doesn't matter," Peter said.

"O Peter, you know it matters."

"Well, then, come with me to the little house."

"May I, mummy?"

"Certainly not. I have got you home again, and I mean to keepyou."

"But he does so need a mother."

"So do you, my love."

"Oh, all right," Peter said, as if he had asked her frompoliteness merely; but Mrs. Darling saw his mouth twitch, and shemade this handsome offer: to let Wendy go to him for a weekevery year to do his spring cleaning. Wendy would have preferreda more permanent arrangement; and it seemed to her that springwould be long in coming; but this promise sent Peter away quitegay again. He had no sense of time, and was so full ofadventures that all I have told you about him is only ahalfpenny-worth of them. I suppose it was because Wendy knewthis that her last words to him were these rather plaintive ones:

Of course Peter promised; and then he flew away. He took Mrs.Darling's kiss with him. The kiss that had been for no one else,Peter took quite easily. Funny. But she seemed satisfied.

Of course all the boys went to school; and most of them gotinto Class III, but Slightly was put first into Class IV and theninto Class V. Class I is the top class. Before they hadattended school a week they saw what goats they had been not toremain on the island; but it was too late now, and soon theysettled down to being as ordinary as you or me or Jenkins minor[the younger Jenkins]. It is sad to have to say that the powerto fly gradually left them. At first Nana tied their feet to thebed-posts so that they should not fly away in the night; and oneof their diversions by day was to pretend to fall off buses [theEnglish double-deckers]; but by and by they ceased to tug attheir bonds in bed, and found that they hurt themselves when theylet go of the bus. In time they could not even fly after theirhats. Want of practice, they called it; but what it really meant wasthat they no longer believed.

Michael believed longer than the other boys, though they jeeredat him; so he was with Wendy when Peter came for her at the endof the first year. She flew away with Peter in the frock she hadwoven from leaves and berries in the Neverland, and her one fearwas that he might notice how short it had become; but he nevernoticed, he had so much to say about himself.

She had looked forward to thrilling talks with him about oldtimes, but new adventures had crowded the old ones from his mind.

"Who is Captain Hook?" he asked with interest when she spoke ofthe arch enemy.

When she expressed a doubtful hope that Tinker Bell would beglad to see her he said, "Who is Tinker Bell?"

"O Peter," she said, shocked; but even when she explained hecould not remember.

"There are such a lot of them," he said. "I expect she is nomore."

I expect he was right, for fairies don't live long, but theyare so little that a short time seems a good while to them.

Wendy was pained too to find that the past year was but asyesterday to Peter; it had seemed such a long year of waiting toher. But he was exactly as fascinating as ever, and they had alovely spring cleaning in the little house on the tree tops.

Next year he did not come for her. She waited in a new frockbecause the old one simply would not meet; but he never came.

"Perhaps he is ill," Michael said.

"You know he is never ill."

Michael came close to her and whispered, with a shiver,"Perhaps there is no such person, Wendy!" and then Wendy wouldhave cried if Michael had not been crying.

Peter came next spring cleaning; and the strange thing was thathe never knew he had missed a year.

That was the last time the girl Wendy ever saw him. For alittle longer she tried for his sake not to have growing pains;and she felt she was untrue to him when she got a prize forgeneral knowledge. But the years came and went without bringingthe careless boy; and when they met again Wendy was a marriedwoman, and Peter was no more to her than a little dust in the boxin which she had kept her toys. Wendy was grown up. You neednot be sorry for her. She was one of the kind that likes to growup. In the end she grew up of her own free will a day quickerthan other girls.

All the boys were grown up and done for by this time; so it isscarcely worth while saying anything more about them. You maysee the twins and Nibs and Curly any day going to an office, eachcarrying a little bag and an umbrella. Michael is an engine-driver [train engineer]. Slightly married a lady of title, andso he became a lord. You see that judge in a wig coming out atthe iron door? That used to be Tootles. The bearded man whodoesn't know any story to tell his children was once John.

Wendy was married in white with a pink sash. It is strange tothink that Peter did not alight in the church and forbid thebanns [formal announcement of a marriage].

Years rolled on again, and Wendy had a daughter. This oughtnot to be written in ink but in a golden splash.

She was called Jane, and always had an odd inquiring look, asif from the moment she arrived on the mainland she wanted to askquestions. When she was old enough to ask them they were mostlyabout Peter Pan. She loved to hear of Peter, and Wendy told herall she could remember in the very nursery from which the famousflight had taken place. It was Jane's nursery now, for herfather had bought it at the three per cents [mortgage rate] fromWendy's father, who was no longer fond of stairs. Mrs. Darlingwas now dead and forgotten.

There were only two beds in the nursery now, Jane's and hernurse's; and there was no kennel, for Nana also had passed away.She died of old age, and at the end she had been rather difficultto get on with; being very firmly convinced that no one knew howto look after children except herself.

Once a week Jane's nurse had her evening off; and then it wasWendy's part to put Jane to bed. That was the time for stories.It was Jane's invention to raise the sheet over her mother's headand her own, this making a tent, and in the awful darkness towhisper:

"What do we see now?"

"I don't think I see anything to-night," says Wendy, with afeeling that if Nana were here she would object to furtherconversation.

"Yes, you do," says Jane, "you see when you were a little girl."

"That is a long time ago, sweetheart," says Wendy. "Ah me, howtime flies!"

"Does it fly," asks the artful child, "the way you flew whenyou were a little girl?"

"The way I flew? Do you know, Jane, I sometimes wonder whetherI ever did really fly."

"Yes, you did."

"The dear old days when I could fly!"

"Why can't you fly now, mother?"

"Because I am grown up, dearest. When people grow up theyforget the way."

"Why do they forget the way?"

"Because they are no longer gay and innocent and heartless. It isonly the gay and innocent and heartless who can fly."

"What is gay and innocent and heartless? I do wish I were gayand innocent and heartless."

Or perhaps Wendy admits she does see something.

"I do believe," she says, "that it is this nursery."

"I do believe it is," says Jane. "Go on."

They are now embarked on the great adventure of the night whenPeter flew in looking for his shadow.

"The foolish fellow," says Wendy, "tried to stick it on withsoap, and when he could not he cried, and that woke me, and Isewed it on for him."

"You have missed a bit," interrupts Jane, who now knows thestory better than her mother. "When you saw him sitting on thefloor crying, what did you say?"

"I sat up in bed and I said, `Boy, why are you crying?'"

"Yes, that was it," says Jane, with a big breath.

"And then he flew us all away to the Neverland and the fairiesand the pirates and the redskins and the mermaid's lagoon, andthe home under the ground, and the little house."

"Yes! which did you like best of all?"

"I think I liked the home under the ground best of all."

"Yes, so do I. What was the last thing Peter ever said toyou?"

"The last thing he ever said to me was, `Just always bewaiting for me, and then some night you will hear me crowing.'"

"Yes."

"But, alas, he forgot all about me," Wendy said it with asmile. She was as grown up as that.

"What did his crow sound like?" Jane asked one evening.

"It was like this," Wendy said, trying to imitate Peter's crow.

"No, it wasn't," Jane said gravely, "it was like this"; and shedid it ever so much better than her mother.

Wendy was a little startled. "My darling, how can you know?"

"I often hear it when I am sleeping," Jane said.

"Ah yes, many girls hear it when they are sleeping, but I wasthe only one who heard it awake."

"Lucky you," said Jane.

And then one night came the tragedy. It was the spring of theyear, and the story had been told for the night, and Jane was nowasleep in her bed. Wendy was sitting on the floor, very close tothe fire, so as to see to darn, for there was no other light inthe nursery; and while she sat darning she heard a crow. Thenthe window blew open as of old, and Peter dropped in on thefloor.

He was exactly the same as ever, and Wendy saw at once that hestill had all his first teeth.

He was a little boy, and she was grown up. She huddled by thefire not daring to move, helpless and guilty, a big woman.

"Hullo, Wendy," he said, not noticing any difference, for hewas thinking chiefly of himself; and in the dim light her whitedress might have been the nightgown in which he had seen herfirst.

She had risen; and now at last a fear assailed him. "What isit?" he cried, shrinking.

"I will turn up the light," she said, "and then you can see foryourself."

For almost the only time in his life that I know of, Peter wasafraid. "Don't turn up the light," he cried.

She let her hands play in the hair of the tragic boy. She wasnot a little girl heart-broken about him; she was a grown womansmiling at it all, but they were wet eyed smiles.

Then she turned up the light, and Peter saw. He gave a cry ofpain; and when the tall beautiful creature stooped to lift him inher arms he drew back sharply.

"What is it?" he cried again.

She had to tell him.

"I am old, Peter. I am ever so much more than twenty. I grewup long ago."

"You promised not to!"

"I couldn't help it. I am a married woman, Peter."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, and the little girl in the bed is my baby."

"No, she's not."

But he supposed she was; and he took a step towards thesleeping child with his dagger upraised. Of course he did notstrike. He sat down on the floor instead and sobbed; and Wendydid not know how to comfort him, though she could have done it soeasily once. She was only a woman now, and she ran out of theroom to try to think.

Peter continued to cry, and soon his sobs woke Jane. She satup in bed, and was interested at once.

"Boy," she said, "why are you crying?"

Peter rose and bowed to her, and she bowed to him from the bed.

"Hullo," he said.

"Hullo," said Jane.

"My name is Peter Pan," he told her.

"Yes, I know."

"I came back for my mother," he explained, "to take her to theNeverland."

"Yes, I know," Jane said, "I have been waiting for you."

When Wendy returned diffidently she found Peter sitting on thebed-post crowing gloriously, while Jane in her nighty was flyinground the room in solemn ecstasy.

"She is my mother," Peter explained; and Jane descended andstood by his side, with the look in her face that he liked to seeon ladies when they gazed at him.

"He does so need a mother," Jane said.

"Yes, I know." Wendy admitted rather forlornly; "no one knowsit so well as I."

"Good-bye," said Peter to Wendy; and he rose in the air, andthe shameless Jane rose with him; it was already her easiest wayof moving about.

Wendy rushed to the window.

"No, no," she cried.

"It is just for spring cleaning time," Jane said, "he wants mealways to do his spring cleaning."

"If only I could go with you," Wendy sighed.

"You see you can't fly," said Jane.

Of course in the end Wendy let them fly away together. Ourlast glimpse of her shows her at the window, watching themreceding into the sky until they were as small as stars.

As you look at Wendy, you may see her hair becoming white, andher figure little again, for all this happened long ago. Jane isnow a common grown-up, with a daughter called Margaret; and everyspring cleaning time, except when he forgets, Peter comes forMargaret and takes her to the Neverland, where she tells himstories about himself, to which he listens eagerly. WhenMargaret grows up she will have a daughter, who is to be Peter'smother in turn; and thus it will go on, so long as children aregay and innocent and heartless.